Finding the Future
by loveadubdub
Summary: My mum gave me a good bit of advice once. She told me that in order to find the perfect shoes, sometimes you have to deal with a few blisters. My life is full of blisters.... Sequel to Lessons Learned
1. Rose, September 13th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 1

**ROSE**

**September 13****th**

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My mum gave me a good bit of advice once.

She told me that in order to find the perfect shoes, sometimes you have to deal with a few blisters. She wasn't speaking literally, of course, because, honestly, she really doesn't give two shits about shoes or finding the so-called perfect ones. The shoes are just a metaphor for life, even though I doubt there's any such thing as a perfect life. But whatever. She wasn't being literal. She was just saying that in order to get something good out of life, sometimes you have to deal with the bad. The blisters.

And god, have I got a shit ton of blisters at the moment.

A year out of school, and I should be well on my way to being independently wealthy, right? Wrong. I haven't even got a job, much less independent wealth. All I've accomplished since leaving Hogwarts was going to a different type of school. And yes, I realize that in order to be a Healer, I _have _to spend three years in the academy studying, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. And I _don't _like it, by the way. I think it's a load of crap really because all of the people here are stuck up, and they all think they're absolutely brilliant. They aren't, of course. In fact, they're really not all that intelligent at all, which is scary when you think about it because these are the people who are going to be responsible for saving lives in the near future. I don't suppose they're _stupid _really, but they're definitely not as bright as they'd all like to imagine. I mean, yeah, I realize that to get in here, you've got to have at least six NEWTs, but so what? I've got eight. But I don't go 'round bragging about it like most people here would.

And wow, do they really dislike me…

Not _all _of them. I've got a few friends, but it's definitely not like when I was in school. When I was in school, I had loads of friends, but now I'm surrounded by people who are far too self-aware and who, for some reason, seem to think that being nice to the Minister of Magic's daughter makes them unprogressive or some load of bollocks. I don't know, I don't pretend to understand their logic. It's ridiculous anyway if you ask me. It's not as if they dislike my mother because nearly everyone _loves _my mother. But apparently I'm a spoiled rich brat who doesn't know anything about living in the real world. And apparently, I got into the Healing Academy based off of my name and my mother's connections. Or at least that's the story you're likely to hear if you ask people around here. It's stupid, of course, because I more than earned my way in here. In fact, I'm probably the most qualified person out of my entire class. But they don't care about that; they'd rather make up lies and spew bullshit about the reasons behind my place here.

And pulling the whole spoiled rich brat card is so cliché that it's almost sad.

Yes, my parents have money. Yes, they are famous. Yes, my mother is the bloody Minister. So what? None of those people have got any clue about anything that goes on in my house or about the way I was raised. I wasn't overly-indulged (maybe a bit, but who's keeping score?), and I certainly wasn't waited on hand and foot. I know how to do laundry, I know how to cook, I know how to iron, and I know how to clean a toilet. On top of that, I know how to do all of it the _Muggle _way as well, which is a lot more than can be said for a lot of the idiots here. It's stupid that they would even use that argument when the great lot of them all come from wealthy backgrounds themselves. But I guess just because their parents aren't as in the public eye as mine that it's alright to use that excuse when hating me.

Whatever. I don't care.

I'm just here to do my work, finish my training, and hopefully get a good job at a hospital. It just sucks thinking that I've got to stay here for two more years, but that's life, I suppose. I do wish I was making money, though. I don't like listening to all my friends talk about their salaries. They're all already working in real jobs, and I'll admit, I am a bit jealous. Mum says not to worry about it because when I finish school, I'll be making more money than most of them and I won't feel quite as jealous. I hope she's right. Of course, she also says I shouldn't be so concerned about money because there is more to life than numbers and salaries, but that's easy for her to say when she's pulling in hundreds of thousands a year, now isn't it? I don't know, maybe I _shouldn't _be so concerned about it. After all, money can't buy happiness, can it? Some of the richest people I know are the unhappiest, so I guess there's some merit to it.

But I haven't really got anything else here to make me happy, either. Like I said, I've got a few friends, but I wouldn't call them extremely close or anything. All of my best friends are at real jobs now, and I actually miss them terribly. It's getting a little easier (just because it's more common), but it was extremely weird when I first started here. Being away from all my friends was awful, and I spent more time being homesick in the first month here than I did in all seven years at Hogwarts.

And I've got a boyfriend, which makes it even worse.

I miss him the most out of everyone, even though we're always sort of on again/off again. At the moment we're on again, which is good, but I'm sure we'll be off again before too much longer. It's never serious when we break up. I don't even know why we do it half the time, probably we're just bored or something. It keeps things interesting, though, because making up is loads of fun. And in order to _make_ up, you've got to _break_ up, haven't you? We don't ever see other people when we break up, mostly because we always know we'll be over it in a few days. I did go out with one other guy once, and I even kissed him. That was the longest we ever stayed broken up because Scorpius got really mad at me over it. So I didn't kiss anyone else.

Scorpius Malfoy. That's my boyfriend. We've been dating for a really long time now; well, a few years anyway. I was fifteen when we started going out, and now I'm nineteen. So that's a long time when you're a teenager, or at least I think it is. None of my friends have ever dated anyone that long. Some people say it doesn't count because we've "broken up" so many times, but whatever, it counts. We don't _seriously _break up. If we were to _seriously _break up, I would know. It hasn't happened yet. The people who say that are just jealous.

He's really nice, Scorpius. And very, very, _very _cute. He plays Quidditch professionally, which is cool, even though I hardly ever get to see him play. He plays for Tutshill, and I'm all the way in Northern Ireland. That's a really long distance when you miss someone. It's not as if we're entirely cut off from each other, though, seeing as how we're both able to Apparate and all that sort of thing, but it's still really difficult. Just finding time that works for both of us is hard, not even throwing in all the international traveling logistics that really makes it a pain. But we deal with it. He gets a nice hiatus in the spring, right around my final exams, of course, but it's still nice. He loves what he does, so that's what really matters. He's only been playing a year, so he isn't a big star or anything like that yet, but that's probably better anyway. My cousin _is _a Quiddtch star, so I've seen what it does to people, and I'm sort of happy that Scorpius hasn't got to that point yet. Of course, some people have unfavorable things to say about his chosen profession- my dad mainly, which is no surprise because he sort of has something unfavorable to say about _everything _that Scorpius does. It's stupid, though, considering how much he loves Quidditch and how hard he's tried to drill that same love into my brothers and me all our lives. But when Scorpius got an offer, Dad just made a face and then grumbled something stupid about how people shouldn't date professional Quidditch players because they're all "stupid, ruddy bastards, the whole lot of them." And Mum just rolled her eyes and let out a very loud, exasperated sort of sigh. I didn't ask, I don't want to know.

Scorpius is nice and normal and very sweet to me. And he tells me he loves it and means it, which is _really _wonderful. And I trust him completely and know he never lies to me. And he's my best friend. So it's great really. I just wish he were a little bit closer… That way I could see him all the time and not just for random quick weekend visits that don't happen too often in the first place.

So that's my life at the moment- full of lovely blisters.

Another shit part of my life is that the day begins at seven fucking thirty. Now, I'm not exactly a night owl, but I don't particularly enjoy waking up at the arse-crack of dawn, either. Seriously, I don't understand the point of 7:30 AM classes. How do they expect anyone to be able to retain knowledge that early in the morning? And since I have to be in class at that time, I've got to be out of bed no later than six if I want to have a shower and breakfast. I thought I was running late this morning and nearly had a panic, but I'm actually one of the first people here. And this is how I like it.

Honestly, I really _am _interested in my studies. I genuinely like learning, and the coursework is actually really interesting. I can't wait until I actually get into the field and start doing hands-on work (we're supposed to start that later this term, and I'm very happy about that). The only thing I really _dislike _about this academy is the make-up of the student body. So when I'm alone in a classroom and have time all to myself to read and absorb some of the information, I really find it quite enjoyable.

It doesn't last, of course, because I'm not_ that _early. Before long, the classroom is starting to fill up, and people are off in their own separate cliques. It's so much like Hogwarts that it almost doesn't seem as if I've left. The only difference, of course, is that instead of being _in_ one of the cliques, I'm one of the people sitting alone at a table hunched over a book and pretending not to notice anyone else. Of course, that's a lie because I'm actually _hyper-_aware of everyone, but the trick is acting as if I'm not. And I've gotten quite good at it if I do say so myself.

Finally, at 7:28, one of my friends shows up. Maribel slides into the empty chair beside me, messy and out of breath as usual. She has a habit of showing up everywhere _just _in the nick of time, and she also has a habit of rolling out of bed without so much as combing her hair. It's okay, though, because she still manages to look amazing anyway. I sort of hate her for that, but she's one of the very few people here who I can stand so I tolerate it.

"I overslept," she whispers, pulling out her books just as Professor Langley enters the classroom.

"No shit," I whisper back. "I never would have guessed."

Maribel is pretty much the opposite of me. She is habitually late or nearly late. She is unorganized and messy. She's smart, but she doesn't care for studying too much. And perhaps most irritating, she's effortlessly attractive. She's completely unaware of her looks, too, which is also maddening. She could be the center of attention and extremely popular if she wanted to be, but it's almost as if she doesn't even notice that we don't have any friends. She certainly doesn't care.

A lot of the students here were with me at Hogwarts, though only a few of them were actually in my year. Most people don't make it in here on their first try, so there are several older people that are in my year here. Maribel is one of the people who didn't attend Hogwarts, though. She's Spanish actually, and she went to school at Beauxbatons. And yes, she's trilingual, which also makes me a bit jealous because I can't speak anything other than English and a bit of butchered French that my cousin tried to teach me when I was eight. The problem, though, is that even though my cousin's half-French, she's crap at the language. So I barely speak any, and what I do know is riddled with inconsistencies and incorrect phrasing.

Professor Langley shoots us a look that clearly says _shut up, _so we do. Shut up, I mean. We're studying potentially fatal hexes at the moment, which is great if you know anyone who you might want to seriously injure or kill. I suppose that's not what we're supposed to be taking from the lesson, but it's a bit more interesting than taking notes on how to treat the injuries. I do take notes, though, because even though I might not find it particularly interesting, chances are that it's going to show up on an exam. And I'm determined to stay at the top of my class, if for no other reason than to drive certain people here insane.

Certain people like Laura Ellis.

Laura's one of the few people here who graduated with me at Hogwarts. She was Head Girl and all that rubbish, and I don't think she's ever got past it because she still walks around acting as though she's in charge of the world. She's hated me since we were about eleven years old, and sadly, I'm not even exaggerating. She has always had it out for me, but it wasn't until we got here that she ever had the balls to start saying shit straight to my face. At Hogwarts, she used to just make rude faces and roll her eyes and huff and puff at me, but since we've been here, she's turned into a complete and total raging bitch who makes it her life mission to make my own life miserable.

And sadly, she does a pretty good job of it.

So you can imagine how positively _thrilled _I am when Professor Langley decides to break us up into groups and assigns Maribel and I to the table where Laura is already sitting with her friends. I try not to roll my eyes because lately I've been making a conscious effort to be a more positive person and to stop being so sardonic all the time. I think I'm doing alright, though I definitely have moments where I slip. I'm sort of sarcastic by nature, kind of bitchy even when I don't mean to be. I'm working on it.

"Oh, how lovely of you to join us," Laura says with disgustingly fake sweetness.

I don't reply. Of course, I have to forcibly bite my tongue to keep from making some rude remark back, but I do it. Because I'm more mature than that. And also because Professor Langley is quite within hearing distance.

"You've probably already done this assignment, haven't you?" Laura presses on. "I know how you love to be top of the game and all."

I don't even look up. I just start spreading my things out in front of me. And yes, I have done the assignment- I did it last week as a matter of fact, but just for practice. So screw her.

We get to work on the project (it's very boring, especially the second time around), and I find myself distracted and daydreaming. I do that a lot lately, and I'm not sure why. It isn't like me to be so easily distracted, but lately I find myself dazing and becoming preoccupied with stupid girlish thoughts. It's definitely the lack of attention in my life, I'm quite sure. I'm getting more and more homesick all the time, and daydreams somehow keep my mind tricked into thinking that I'm not as lonely and as miserable as I really am. It's ridiculous, of course, because it's not as if I have _no one _to talk to, but I don't have the people I want most, and that's what makes it bad, I suppose.

"Is that alright with you, Princess?"

I look up, snapped out of my daydream by the familiar nickname. Several people have taken to calling me _Princess _in a really sneering sort of manner. It's because of Mum, of course- just one more thing for them to hate me for. It's really annoying, especially since it's caught on so quickly. It wouldn't be so bad if people weren't so malicious about it. It's ridiculous really because it isn't as if me being the daughter of the Minister is a new thing. It's been that way for over three years now, but like I said, things are much different here than they were at Hogwarts. For example, at Hogwarts, I didn't constantly want to stab my own eyes out. Here, I think about doing such at least six times a day.

"Sorry?" I ask back, not caring that my voice sounds as bitchy as I feel. "I didn't quite catch the mindless chatter, so I'm not sure what you're referring to."

Laura sneers at me and tosses her hair. Julia Tantem gives me an equally unflattering look and replies. "We're going to split the treatment effects up between us, ranging from least effective to most. If that's alright with _you, _of course." Her tone of voice very nearly matches my own.

"That's fine," I shrug, disinterested. "I've already done them all anyway, so my part is finished."

"Oh, of course," Julia replies. "And I'm sure you'll be _thrilled _to look over ours as well, won't you?"

"Well, I'll have to," I say back, keeping as straight of a face as possible. "After all, I don't want to fail the assignment now, do I?"

Maribel snickers, but she shuts up when Laura, Julia, and their friend Eric all shoot her dirty looks. I feel a bit bad for Maribel because people wouldn't hate her nearly as much if she weren't friends with me. On the other hand, she happens to be one of very few people I can stand around here, so I'll selfishly keep her- even if it _is _detrimental to her own social life.

By the time class ends, I'm more than exhausted of patience for the rotten bitches and bastards I'm surrounded with. It took every bit of my self-control not to start using the hexes in the lesson on the people around me. I had to sit on my hand so that it didn't grab my wand and start firing off hexes under the table. One of these days I'm not going to have quite so much self-control.

And it'll be a _great _day.

My flat is warm when I get home, a nice change from the chilly September air outside. It's too quiet, though, which bothers me just a bit because I've gotten to the point where I rather hate quiet. My roommate, Lola, must be out because she definitely isn't anywhere in sight. Lola is alright. We actually get along fine, but she's very, very different than me. We were assigned as flatmates last year, and since we didn't have any major arguments or blow ups, we opted to stay together this year as well. It's fine really; it's just that Lola is extremely… _boisterous. _And she has _lots _of boyfriends- none of whom are actually her _boyfriend. _That can get annoying, having different men trounce through here all the time at all hours of the day, but it could be a lot worse, I suppose. She could be a stuck-up bitch who hates me or something, so at least she's not that.

It _is _annoying, though. Lola with her countless boys and me with none to be seen. Sometimes it almost makes me wish that I had that sort of freedom, too- the freedom to just go out with _whomever_ I want _whenever_ I want. Sometimes I think it has to be better than waiting around on a boy I sometimes don't even see once a month. But then I remember _why _I do it, and that always gives me the patience to deal with it all. And it'll all be worth it, I know it will. Things will change eventually; we just have to deal with the situation now and look forward to the future. Because that's when things will get better. And I'm sure we'll break up and get back on about fifty times before then, but hey, at least it keeps things interesting, right?

And I love him. A lot. And yeah, maybe I'm nineteen, but so what? If you knew_ half _the shit we've been through and had to put up with, you'd know why young age is the _least _of our problems. I can't even go to his house and have dinner, and if he happens by _my _house, dinner turns into a half hour of uncomfortable silence. It's stupid, and it's entirely annoying and ridiculous. However, it's obviously not something that's going to change any time soon. Our families have had plenty of time to come to terms with things, and they all still continue to act like children. So that's fine. It doesn't do anything but really help to cement our feelings because at least we know we've got to be serious about things if we're willing to put up with all of _that _shit.

I go through the flat to my bedroom at the back, and I'm not at all surprised to open the door and spot two owls waiting impatiently on my windowsill. I drop my bag onto the bed and hurry over to let them in. The first nearly pecks my hand off as I take the letter from her beak- apparently I don't offer the owl treats quickly enough… I recognize Mum's handwriting on that one, so I drop it onto the desk for later and reach for the second one. I'm more cautious this time, and I toss a couple of treats in front of the owl before I take the letter. _Damn. _That one's from Al. Nothing from Scorpius. He hasn't written me in three days. The only reason I even know he's alive is an article published in _The Daily Prophet _yesterday about the fall training season; there was a quick quote from him about the way the ugly weather is affecting their training schedule. I know I shouldn't be like that because it's stupid and petty and I don't want to be _that _girl. But it's hard for me because I miss him so much, and I just want to know what's going on in his life since I rarely ever get to see for myself.

I'm not in the mood to read either Mum's or Al's letters because they're both probably infinitely happier than I am at the moment, so I leave them both on the desk and reach instead for that morning's copy of the _Prophet. _I haven't had a chance to look at it yet, and really I couldn't care less, but I'm somehow so extremely bored at the moment that I'm willing to read. For once, there's nothing about any of my family members on the front page. That's an extreme rarity all in itself because there's _always _something about my family on the front page. Not today, though; instead, there's a huge article about the upcoming start of the Quidditch season. Of course. Everything in the bloody _world _seems to revolve around Quidditch. Sometimes I hate it. Sometimes I wish it had never been invented.

But sometimes I'm selfish.

If you had asked me two years ago how you thought my future would be going, I probably would have told you that I'd be happy with lots of friends and a jumpstart on what would eventually turn into an amazing career. And I probably would have told you that my boyfriend would be around a lot more than he actually is and that, while maybe the distance caused a _bit _of trouble, it wasn't enough to actually matter or mean anything. I'm sure I wouldn't have guessed that I'd be hated and ostracized and that Scorpius would be too busy playing some stupid sport and talking to newspapers to even write to me.

My life is _shit._

I try really hard to be positive and to focus on the reason I'm here, but sometimes it's too hard. And sometimes all I want to do is go home and curl up with someone who loves me, but he's not _here. _And sometimes I wonder if it's even worth it. This isn't the way I imagined it, and I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to put up with this. I need someone _here, _just one person would do. But everyone I care about is miles and miles away. And the one person I care about the _most _is too busy to even answer letters. But it _is _worth it, though- I know it is. _He's _worth it, and I just have to be patient and make it through this part of my life. After this, things have to get easier. They just _have _to. After all, I'm pretty sure they couldn't get much worse.

I just have to deal with the blisters.

So I won't get angry, and I won't get upset, I won't allow myself to. I'll just keep that in mind and carry on being the supportive girlfriend because that's who I need to be right now. I've got pretty good at hiding things, and this is one thing that I'll keep tucked away for the time being. Things'll get better in the future; I've just got to deal with the now. So with that in mind, I sit up and grab parchment and a quill from my bedside table and decide to write my own letter.

After all, at least one of us should be making an effort to keep in touch…

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A/N: So I promised a sequel, and here's the start. It isn't a really explosive beginning or anything, so I hope too many people aren't disappointed. It'll get better, though, as more people start showing up and the plot begins developing. I decided to go ahead and follow the same sort of format as before because I think it helps me develop the characters more.

As always, thanks for reading, and I'd love it if you'd review!


	2. James, September 17th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 2

**JAMES**

**September 17****th**

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Whoever said money can't buy you happiness was lying.

Money can by you anything you want if you've got enough of it. Money can buy you everything really, and anyone who says differently is lying. Money can buy you the best clothes and the trendiest flats and all the best help you could even need. Hell, it can even buy you love- or at least lust. Money attracts beautiful women like a moth to a flame, so anyone who spews bullshit about it not being able to buy happiness is full of crap. Because there's nothing that brings more happiness than a beautiful woman. Nothing in the world.

Except maybe multiple beautiful women.

If you've got money, you can have everything- the girls, the power, the stature, the fame… If you're _very _lucky, like me, you'll be a ridiculously overpaid Quidditch star who also happens to have a trust fund to back up your own wealth, which just makes you richer and even more desirable and, inevitably, the happiest of the happy. And life is good.

Of course, life would probably be even better if I weren't fighting a nasty hangover. But every high has a downside, and the particular high I chased last night was definitely worth the headache this morning. The sun's too bright, though, and I'm far too comfortable and warm in bed to get up and pull the shade. It's a good thing I've got people to do things like pulling shades, so I close my eyes and shout for Maggie, my "assistant." I use the word _assistant _loosely because she's more of a maid than she is an assistant, but it isn't my fault that I'm forbidden from employing house-elves. I don't really know how hiring humans is any different, seeing as how they'd both be paid the same amount and all, but according to my aunt The Expert, there's a difference. I don't even bother trying to listen and learn said difference because, frankly, I don't really give a damn.

Maggie shows up right away, and I just wave my hand vaguely in the direction of the window without opening my eyes back up to the light. I hear her sigh a little, but she doesn't say anything as she crosses the room and pulls the shade.

"What can I get you?" she asks, and I can tell by her voice that she's bored and disinterested in my obvious condition.

"Melladrime," I reply back, mumbling the potion's name in a barely audible voice.

"Fine," she says dully. "You might want to get up, though. Charlotte's already called twice and says she'll be on her way."

Of course she'll be on her way. She always is, isn't she? That girl may as well move herself in (something I'm sure she's more than eager for). But honestly, she stays at this flat more than she stays at her own, and to say it's a bit smothering is an understatement. It's a _lot _smothering.

But _fuck_ if she isn't hot.

Before I have time to even push my covers back, though, Maggie's returned with the Melladrime and a freshly buttered croissant. I open my eyes because I smell them both quite strongly.

"Chaser," she says simply, holding up the small plate of croissant. She passes me the potion, which I down instantly- no point in putting off the inevitable gag reflex. And then she hands me the croissant, which I tear into quickly, desperate to get the horrid taste of Melladrime out of my mouth. Both items serve their purposes, though, and the bitter kick of the hangover slowly fades away to just a dull soreness behind the eyes.

"_You," _I tell Maggie, smiling graciously, "are the best."

"Really?" she asks without so much as cracking even the smallest of amused grins. "Then maybe I need a raise."

Ouch. "Have your people call my people," I tell her solemnly, shoving back the bedcovers and sitting up. Maggie just rolls her eyes and leaves, taking the empty vial and plate with her.

I don't even have a chance to stand up, though, before the bedroom door's flying open again, and Charlotte's rushing in with a ridiculous smile on her face and looking far too happy than anyone has a right to be this early in the morning.

"Morning, love!" she chirps in the same sickeningly sweet accent she uses whenever she speaks.

"Hey," I say back, hoping the dullness doesn't come through in my voice. It doesn't matter anyway because, of course, she doesn't notice. She simply throws her arms around my neck, jumps in my lap, and starts kissing the shit out of me. And I certainly don't mind that because if there's one thing that _doesn't _bore me about Charlotte, it's _this. _Because anyone who's ever known me will tell you that I have a very high appreciation for beautiful women. And honestly speaking, they don't really come much more beautiful than Charlotte Easley.

She's fairly famous in the world of _Witch Weekly _and the other popular Wizarding publications; in fact, she's probably one of the most sought-after young models around right now. And for good reason, too. Tall, thin, bright blue eyes, and jet black hair that's almost to her waist. She makes up for everything else she lacks with her looks, which is a good thing because she isn't the smartest person I've ever met in my life to say the least. Of course, I tend to prefer blondes, but I overlook it in her because she's got everything else and more going for her in the looks department.

She cuts out the kissing far too soon, though, and she jumps back up and pulls me to my feet. "Come on!" she says quickly. "We've got brunch reservations."

"We do?"

She nods. "Yes, I made them last week for Spivey. Here," she starts pulling clothes out of my closet. "I'll start you a shower."

"I can't start my own shower, thanks," I say, catching a button-up that she throws my way. "But if you want to join me…" I carry on suggestively, reaching for her again and pulling her forward by the elbows.

She giggles (she always, _always _giggles- never laughs). "I'd love to, sweetie, but it took me an hour this morning to get this hair, and I'm not _about _to mess it up."

I should have guessed, so I don't even say anything. I just do as she says and head off for a shower. And when I'm done with that, I continue following her orders as she sits on the back of the toilet and tells me to shave and exactly how to carefully mess up my hair. And after that, I put on the clothes she's laid out for me and let her purposely wrinkle my shirt at _precisely _the right spots. Some men might find this type of control irritating and maybe even frightening, but I don't. After all, we have to look good when we go out together because wherever we go, there's always going to be cameras flashing in our direction. And just like Charlotte says, there's no such thing as too much publicity.

We arrive at the restaurant fashionably late, but, of course, they haven't given our table away. Spivey's a new restaurant, but it's quickly become _the _place to be. It's way down at the end of Diagon Alley in the posh section that's been going up for years now. The prices are far too expensive and the portions are far too small, but you don't go to Spivey for the food anyway. You go for the _experience. _And the exposure. And whatever, my girlfriend's a model, so she doesn't eat anyway.

We get the best service, naturally. I order two helpings of the honey blueberry blintzes, while Charlotte pretends to eat an egg white omelet and sips expensive Muggle champagne. And, of course, everyone else in the restaurant is far too obvious as they try to sneak secret glances in our direction. None of them come over, though, obviously. Because that's not how you behave in the posh part of town. In this area, you've got to pretend as though seeing celebrities is no more surprising than seeing your own feet. And more than that, you've got to pretend to be completely and utterly bored by their appearances.

Charlotte and I have a few short-lived chats about mindless subjects, and we throw in a couple of sweet grins and quick kisses for the camera lenses that are sneaking in through the restaurant windows. And so is a normal Saturday morning…

When we're done letting the photographers get their pictures, we leave Spivey hand in and hand and walk back down the High Street to the more populated area of Diagon Alley. And the "normal" people aren't quite as willing to "not notice" us. This is no surprise, either, but we usually venture over this way after the photo ops because it boosts our self-esteem. Nothing says _you're important! _like a bunch of people swarming you for autographs.

The kids are the best, and when a chubby little boy nearly knocks his little sister down trying to grab my attention, I stop and chat with him like the Good Samaritan that I am.

"Mr. Potter?" he asks nervously when he finally gets close enough for conversation. "Could I have your autograph?" He can't be more than seven or eight, but he looks terrified that I'm going to yell at him or say no or something. But of course I don't.

"Sure," I tell him nicely (because that's the type of person I am). "What's your name?"

"Thomas," he replies shly.

"Alright, Thomas. What've you got?"

He sort of frowns and holds up a paper shopping bag. "I don't got nothing but this…"

It's a Wheezes bag, and I take this opportunity to be even more friendly. I drop down to his level and take the bag. "D'you know my uncle and cousin own this store?" I ask casually.

His eyes sort of go wide, which is funny because only an eight year old would be surprised by this news. It's definite common knowledge to the rest of the world. "Do they really?"

I nod and quickly glance over to his mum to make sure she's seeing what a good guy I am. She's kind of hot actually, in a slightly older woman sort of way…. Whoa, distracted.

"Yup. I'm going there now actually. Wanna come?"

His eyes light up, and he's suddenly even more excited. "Oh, cool! Could I?"

"Well, you've got to ask your mum, of course-" I don't finish the sentence before he's turned around so quickly that I'm shocked his head doesn't spin. He speaks so quickly while asking permission that I can't even understand him. His mother does, though, and she nods her head patiently and flashes me a grateful smile. I return it.

Yes. Definite MILF vibes.

"Huhum." Charlotte delicately but pointedly clears her throat and offers her own perfect smile. "Shall we?" she says kindly, ushering the kid in the direction of WWWs.

"Thank you so much." His mum speaks up for the first time as she hurries along behind us, dragging her toddler daughter with her. "He's a _huge _fan."

I don't get the chance to answer because Charlotte speaks up first. "Oh, it's no problem," she assures her with sickening sweetness. "We love meeting fans. Don't we, sweetie?" She wraps her hand around my elbow and hangs on for dear life.

I nod, gritting my teeth against her hold. "Oh, absolutely," I agree. "It's the best."

Thomas's mum smiles, and I take in how tired she looks as she eventually stops and picks her little girl up.

"What's his dad thinking?" I ask smoothly. "Leaving you to chase two kids around Diagon Alley all on your own?" I end my prying with a playful little laugh.

Mrs. Mum just sort frowns, though, and lowers her voice. "His dad's left."

_Jackpot._

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say with as much solemn sincerity as I can muster with all the rapidly forming dirty thoughts in my brain.

But she just turns her lips inward into a hopeless smile and shrugs one shoulder. "It's nothing."

"Well," I say, picking up on the perfect next move, "he's got to be an idiot, running out on _these _kids." I reach over to playfully tug at one of Mrs. Mum's Daughter's curls. "What's your name, beauty?"

Mrs. Mum's Daughter giggles shyly and ducks her head. "Emmy…" she whispers, and her chubby cheeks flush with embarrassment. See? Even three year olds can't resist this.

"I'm James, by the way," I say, throwing it out there as if she doesn't know.

She does. "I know," Mrs. Mum nods. "I'm Carolyn."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Carolyn. And Thomas. And Emmy." Emmy giggles at the sound of her name and hides her face in her mother's shoulder.

"I'm Charlotte." Oh, yes. One member of our party remains unmentioned, though she certainly doesn't waste much time in introducing herself. Carolyn smiles politely, and Charlotte looks on smugly as we turn the corner up toward WWWs.

Diagon Alley's branch is the original and still the largest store, though it's far from the only one. It expands all the time, too, and now it takes up nearly an entire block. It's crowded, of course, despite the fact that school's back in session. By some miracle, we manage to slip in unnoticed, and I lead the way toward the back of the store in search for one of my relatives. I find one quickly enough when a toy wand nails me on the back of the head.

It's Fred, and to say I'm happy to see him is an understatement. I'm _always _happy to see Fred. He's my favorite relative and pretty much my best friend, and even now we really stick together through everything. He recently bought into the store as a partner with his dad, so he's making plenty of money and enjoying it every bit as much as I am.

I introduce him to our new friends, and I don't miss the way his eyes gaze appreciatively down Carolyn. He clearly gets the same kind of MILFy vibe that I get, and _that, _ladies and gentlemen, is why Fred and I get along so well.

"So see?" I tell Thomas seriously. "They really do own this place. So go pick out whatever you want."

"Oh, you don't have to do-" Carolyn starts to protest, but I hold my hand up and silence her.

"I want to."

She smiles so widely now that I think her face might crack. Charlotte looks like she wants to kill someone. Fred looks on in silent amusement. And Thomas makes a start on ransacking the store. I almost offer Emmy the same option, but I get sidetracked a second later when she suddenly sneezes out of nowhere and blows a huge snot rocket right onto the sleeve of Charlotte's blouse. I can't help it, I laugh. Charlotte is horrified, as is Carolyn who immediately launches into a long-winded, hurried apology. Fred fights his own laughter as he offers Charlotte a handkerchief to clean up her blouse with.

A little chatting later, and Thomas has completed his uprooting of the store. Fred and I bag up his goods, and Carolyn thanks us over and over again. She seems to be getting hotter by the second if that's possible, so I conjure up three tickets to the sky box for the opening match and hold them out.

"You should bring Thomas to the match," I say casually. "He can meet the rest of the team."

Thomas looks absolutely beside himself, and Carolyn looks a little dazed as she reaches for them, mumbling a shocked thank you. Charlotte sneers, of course, as she continues to wipe snot off of herself, and Fred and I happily tell them goodbye as Carolyn and her children leave the store in a bundle of newfound excitement.

"You do know you've got to pay for all that shit, don't you?" Fred asks when they're out of earshot.

I just give him a shoulder-bump. "You're like my brother, Freddie. Surely you wouldn't ask me to pay for a few toys."

"Have you ever in your life given _your _brother anything for free?"

"Touché." I reach into my pocket and toss a handful of galleons onto the desk. "I'm good for the rest," I promise, but Fred just rolls his eyes and slides the gold into the register.

"Are we finished here?" Charlotte snaps, her normally sugary sweet tone now laced with irritation. "I need to go home and burn this outfit."

Only Charlotte would suggest burning an entire outfit because a two year old sneezed on it. She looks like she might have an anxiety attack at any given moment, and since I certainly don't have any drugs on me to calm her down, I shove Fred just a bit and bid him adieu.

We Apparate back to my flat, and Charlotte immediately begins ridding herself of the _destroyed _clothing. I don't mind, of course, because she _is _quite a sight without her clothes on. It's mildly amusing, though, to watch her freak out over a bit of infant snot, considering the fact that not two weeks ago, she tried to convince me that we should have a baby. Not that that's surprising, of course, because she's always trying to convince me of _something, _always dropping hints that we should move in together or have a baby or, her most popular suggestion, get married. My response is nearly always the same- I just mumble something incoherently and busy myself by digging around through the cupboards or whatever else happens to be nearby when she gets on one of her tangents.

Of course I'm _not _going to ask her to move in or intentionally impregnate her (though I wouldn't put it past her to manage _that _one all on her own, so I've taken to being extra, _extra _careful), and I'm certainly not shopping for engagement rings. It's not that I don't _like _Charlotte because I do actually like her quite a bit. She's pretty and well-known, and she serves her purpose spectacularly. But that's about all it is- a _purpose. _She's someone to parade in front of the cameras and take along on photo-ops, and at the end of the day, she's a fantastic shag. But that's pretty much it, and anything she imagines happening beyond that is completely in her head. If I were _really _serious about her, I wouldn't take all those Quidditch groupies up on their numerous offers… But regardless, I suppose officially she is my "girlfriend," but that's the most she'll ever be.

"You don't respect me," she says out of nowhere, reaching into the closet and pulling out one of the many outfits she's got stored here.

I'm a bit surprised by this, seeing as how she rarely speaks up in that sort of manner. I watch as she pulls a short gray dress over her head and banishes the barely-soiled blouse and its matching slacks. "Sorry?" I ask, raising my eyebrows in request for further explanation.

"You don't respect me," she says again, crossing her arms and swinging some of her long, dark hair over her shoulder. "You practically dragged that _divorcee_ to bed right in front of me!"

I snort. Literally. "Oh, don't you think you're being just a tiny bit overdramatic?"

"No."

"Clearly I didn't practically _drag her to bed. _I offered to do a good deed for her _son, _a _fan. _Now you want me to ignore my fans?" I don't even comment on the way she spat "divorcee" like it was a swear.

"Of course I don't want you to ignore their fans," she sniffs at me. "But I don't want you throwing yourself at their single mothers, either."

I roll my eyes and then sigh loudly. "Babe, it's not like that. I was just being nice."

She still just looks at me suspiciously. "James, do you love me?"

Christ. Here we go… I offer her one of my signature crooked grins and immediately melt her. "Course I do."

"Do you _really?"_

I feel like I'd rather be eating nails than having this particular conversation, but I know I need to appease her before she gets all huffy and starts making my life miserable. "I just said I did, didn't I?"

"That doesn't mean anything," she argues back. "I could _say_ I'm the Queen of England, but you don't see a bloody tiara on my head, do you?"

"Is that what you want? Do you want me to buy you a tiara?" Charlotte frowns at me, but I just smile wider and reach for her hands, pulling her over to me. "Come on, babe, you know you're it."

Her eyes search mine out, and I know I've nearly got her. It's easy, of course, to lie to girls and make them believe whatever you want. Truthfully, I _do _care about Charlotte. To an extent anyway. I don't want her to break up with me in any case because, like I said, she serves her purpose fantastically. Her lower lip is pursed out just a bit, so I smoothly dip my head to kiss it quickly.

"Say it," she mumbles quietly, and I know exactly what she's requesting.

"Charlotte, I love you."

See? Lying is easy when you've got as much practice as I have. At any rate, I learned a long time ago not to _really _fall in love because it makes lying a hell of a lot more difficult.

And I like everything in my life to be as easy as possible.

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A/N: Oh, my little horrid James… I still love him, even if he's still a bastard! Thanks for all the great reviews, I'm really thrilled you guys are up for a new story because I've got lots of ideas floating around that I can't wait to get out! You guys are the best! Please review this one, too, and let me know what you think about the "matured" James…


	3. Scorpius, September 28th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 3

**SCORPIUS**

**September 28****th**

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"Malfoy! Pay attention to what you're doing, for fuck's sake!"

I bite my tongue. I don't say exactly what I want to say, which is something along the lines of, _"Shut your fucking mouth, you stupid fucking fuckwit!" _That's probably not the smartest thing to say to your coach, or at least I wouldn't imagine anyway. I've never really tried it, but I'm fairly certain that it wouldn't go over too well. Even if he is a stupid fucking fuckwit with a big fucking mouth.

And this is what happens when you spend all your time with a bunch of foul-mouthed, overcompensated, stuck up Quidditch players- you start saying fuck a lot. It's sort of an amazing word because it pretty much sums up everything you could ever want to say.

But this life isn't that bad. In fact, it's got a _lot _of ups. The money doesn't suck by any means, and the other perks aren't so awful, either. For one thing, people are _insane _when it comes to Quidditch, and the Tornados have been at the front of the league for awhile now. There's certainly no lacking of fans, and even though I'm still considered the new kid around here, I'm finally _somebody, _which is more than I've ever been before.

But the coach, yes, is a fucking fuckwit.

Andrew Call has coached numerous different teams during his career in the pros, and he's been with Tutshill for five years now. He's definitely good at what he does and he definitely has a record for winning, but that doesn't change the fact that he's a complete prick. Still, though, I suppose that's what he gets paid to do, and I get paid to listen to him and follow his orders. So I do.

And anyway, it's not as if he's making anything up. I _am _distracted, and I'll admit it. I'm really tired and sort of out of it and really not in the best mood. On top of that, I'm a bit hungover, which doesn't really help matters. But none of that matters because I'm not getting paid to complain and make excuses, am I? I'm getting paid to win, and that's not going to happen if I don't do exactly what Call says and pay attention to what I'm doing.

The drills we're running are fairly simple, but Call wants us to work on proficiency, and I'm not going to argue with him. I focus on what I'm doing and put all of my effort into flying as flawlessly as possible. He stops bitching at me, so apparently I'm doing alright. The season starts in just a few weeks, and we've got to be in top shape by then or else we're going to make fools of ourselves. The practice schedule _is _a bit much, though, and I rarely ever see the light of day from anywhere but the training pitch.

But it's worth it.

It's worth it because Quidditch is amazing, and there's no rush in the world like soaring through the air and hearing the shouts of the crowd ring in your ears. And it's worth it because it's something I really love to do. And also because it makes me _somebody. _Somebody who isn't just a Malfoy- traitor or pure evil- somebody who isn't invisible and who isn't just a loser. Somebody _important, _or at the very least, somebody who has the potential to _become _important.

And when I finally get home from practice, I'm even _more _reminded why I love doing something successful. There's a familiar owl waiting for me on the stairs of my cottage, and she flies right into the house with me when I open the door. She hoots appreciatively as I hand over a couple of treats and carefully untie the envelope from her leg. The handwriting is as familiar as my own, and I can't help the smile as I open it to see what she's written.

_Dear Scorpius,_

_I miss you._

_Love,_

_Rose_

Short, sweet, and to the point. Just like her, except not short and sometimes not so sweet… So okay, really _not _like her except the to the point part. She's nothing if not extremely to the point and blunt.

And I love her for it.

For that and so much more. Really, I just love everything about her. I love how smart she is and how pretty she is and how _passionate _she is about things other people don't even notice. And I love when she gets angry, and her eyes go so dark that the brown almost turns black- sometimes I purposely pick arguments with her just to see that. And I love how sometimes she gets _so _into something that her hair goes completely out of control, and curls fly around her face at random. And I love the way she always smells always smells like lemonade- not lemons, _lemonade- _it's her shampoo and she swears it's lemon scented, but it doesn't have that slightly bitter smell of lemons, it has the more sugary smell of lemonade. And it smells _amazing. _

And _she's_ amazing.

I'm so proud of her. She's studying to be a Healer, and I know she's going to be great at it. She graduated Hogwarts top of our class with the most NEWTs out of the whole school, and now she's top of her class at the medical academy, too. The work there is ridiculous, and I don't even understand half the words in her textbooks. But she does fantastic at it, and I'm _so_ proud of her.

I miss her like hell, though. All the time. And sometimes it does get really difficult, but it's worth it. I mean, we knew it was going to be like this, and we talked about it a lot. After all, she decided to do this an entire year before we even left school, and we knew she would have to leave. We talked about it for a really long time, and when I actually got signed we talked about it even more. And we're both doing what's best for us. But it still doesn't change the fact that I want to see her and can't. So I do other stuff to try to distract myself from missing her, and luckily, I've actually got people here to go out with and to keep my mind off of the fact that I never get to see my girlfriend.

Almost on cue, a loud popping noise sounds behind me, and Kelvin Apparates right into my living room. He grins at me in a way that can't be good, and it's _not, _as confirmed a second later.

"Mitchum's got half the _Penston_ girls at his house!"

The _Penston _calendar is a staple for the Tornados' changing room, and any member of the team can name all of its models at random. The models themselves are sort of a staple for the team itself because they nearly always show up to Tornado parties. That's been going on since a long time before I joined the team, though, and I'm not even sure how it started. Most of the girls in _Penston _live in London or somewhere close to it- they certainly don't live around here. But then again, half of our team lives elsewhere as well. I guess it doesn't really make that much of a difference when you're able to Apparate instantly wherever you want. So however it got started, I don't know, but it's certainly not a rarity for them to be at one our parties.

"I'm sort of tired," I admit, hoping I don't sound like a complete douche.

Apparently I do because Kelvin rolls his eyes. "Get your coat and move your arse out to Mitchum's. You can sleep when you're dead."

That's Kelvin's favorite saying, and it's perhaps the stupidest saying any person could have. Obviously when you're dead, you're dead. And one surefire way to _get _dead is to collapse of exhaustion. But Kelvin doesn't see it like that, and I guess you wouldn't have to if you took as many illegal substances as he does. If he's exhausted, he just disappears to the loo for a few moments and comes back totally and completely refreshed and ready to go for several more hours. And he's definitely the only person on my team who employs the same method of "rest."

There's no point in arguing with him, though, and I glance at Rose's letter on my desk as I head to the back to get a coat. I haven't exactly been the _best _lately at keeping in touch, and I know she has to notice that she writes a lot more often than I do. I feel bad because I shouldn't put that off. Rose is having a rough time, and she doesn't seem to have a whole lot of fun in Ireland. So I know she probably looks forward to hearing from me, and I feel guilty when I don't get to write to her a lot. But I'm so busy all the time that sometimes it's hard to squeeze writing into the schedule. But still, I feel bad. So I make a mental note to write her a nice long letter when I get back from Mitchum's.

The party is already well underway by the time Kelvin and I show up, and I know that if Call finds out about this, we're all going to pay in the morning. He's recently got a stick up his arse that causes him to punish us for any and everything, which, of course, includes throwing parties in the middle of the training week and showing up for practice hungover. He hates it, and he's certainly made no secret of his feelings on the matter. So whenever he catches wind of shit like this or whenever the majority of the team shows up for practice looking like death beat with the ugly broom, he takes sadistic pleasure in torturing us even more than usual.

Oh, well, no point in worrying about that now, is there? I'm already here, I may as well have fun… Apparently Kelvin feels the same way because he heads straight for the bar (only Mitchum would have a bar actually built into his house) and gets us double shots of firewhiskey. I realize I should probably have just a tiny bit of an immediate adverse reaction to the burning liquid shooting down my throat, but I don't, which clearly means I drink it too often. That's probably not the _best _thing in the world… Oh, well, no point in worrying about _that _now, either.

The initial double shot is followed by several more double shots, and it's not long before I've forgotten all about the potential torture that we're sure to face in the morning. I never really did this sort of thing before, the partying, before I came here. And sometimes, like right now with several shots of whiskey in me, I wonder why I didn't ever try harder at school to make friends. But cest la vie, I suppose. The past is the past, and the present is infinitely better.

"Hey." An accented-female voice kicks me out of my momentary flashback, and I look up to see Miss October. Her name, I know, is Amy. She's twenty-three, Canadian-born, and she likes Muggle films from the mid-twentieth century. "Seeker, right?"

I nod. "That's me."

She smiles at her own knowledge. "I'm Amy."

"Scorpius." I take her offered hand and shake it.

Amy keeps right on smiling, and anyone would be forced to take notice of her beauty. Not that that's surprising, of course, seeing as how she gets paid thousands of galleons to take her clothes off for calendar and magazine pictorials. She'd _have _to be pretty to score that job. "I saw you play a few times last year," she goes on, finally letting go of my hand.

"Oh, yeah?"

She nods. "Yeah, you were really good. Especially for a rookie."

I hate the term rookie, but I just smile politely. "Thanks."

"I read a prediction that the Tornados are the team to beat this year," she goes on. "Hopefully I'll get to make it to some matches."

"Yeah," I nod, "we've got a good schedule this year. Should be interesting."

"Malfoy, you're not boring our guests, are you?" Mitchum joins us, looking completely fucked and far too cheery for someone who got hit in the back with a Bludger just a few hours ago. He hands me another drink.

"We're talking about your chances this year," Amy pipes up, turning the same brilliant smile on Mitchum who falls for it instantly.

"Quidditch, schmidditch," he waves his hand dismissively. "Let's talk about your boyfriend instead."

Amy's cheeks turn just the slightest shade of pink, and she shakes her head. I can't imagine how someone who goes starkers for a living could possibly be embarrassed by _anything. _"No boyfriend."

Mitchum fakes shock. "How is that _possible? _A beautiful woman like you with no attachments? That's a _tragedy."_

I try not to roll my eyes. Amy just shrugs a little. "Let's talk about your girlfriends," she challenges back smoothly.

Mitchum holds his hands up, "No girlfriend."

She purses her lips and takes a sip of whatever it is she's drinking. I can't tell except that it's something fruity, which is no surprise as all these _Penston _girls drink fruity drinks. "And you, Seeker?"

I take a drink from the glass Mitchum handed me, an I don't even register it. Yeah, definitely not a good sign… "She's at school," I finally answer.

"She's still in school?" Amy raises her eyebrows in confusion. "Robbing the cradle, are we? But you're young anyway, aren't you?"

"I'm nineteen, and so is she. She's in Ireland at the medical academy." I take another drink.

"Ah," Amy nods slowly. "Got it."

"Yes, don't waste your time on this one," Mitchum says, shoving me with his shoulder. "He's training to marry into the royal family." I give him a sharp look. Rose hates when people say shit like that, and so do I. Mitchum, of course, ignores me and goes on to clarify for Amy. "He's attached to the Minister of Magic's daughter."

Amy looks impressed, and her eyes widen slightly. "Really?" She takes a small sip of her drink, and I mirror her with a much larger sip. "Hmm. How did you manage that one?"

I don't want to be having this conversation. I hate when people ask me about stuff like this. Still, though, I can't just be a prick to her, and thanks to Mitchum, she's going to be naturally curious. So I just do my best to answer her as generically as possible. "We've been together for awhile. Since before her mum was Minister." It's not technically a lie. There were a good four months before the election.

"Well, that must be interesting," Amy goes on, and now she's got some sort of amused look on her face. "Does she have to take a bodyguard with her every time you go out to dinner?"

"We don't really go out to dinner," I mumble, taking another long drink from the glass. "But no, she doesn't have a bodyguard."

Amy laughs. "Well, would your girlfriend care if you danced with me?" Now her eyes look downright mischievous, and I can't imagine what she's thinking. "Or would someone put a hit out on me?"

"She's not in the mob," I defend, and when Amy looks at me confused, I just shake my head. I wouldn't know what it was, either, if Rose didn't force me into reading Muggle literature from time to time. "No, no one would put a hit out on you."

"So then let's dance."

I hesitate, wishing maybe I hadn't drank so much, and then maybe my head would be a bit clearer. Still, I'm not _so _far gone that I miss the voice in the back of my head saying, "_Danger, danger." _But there's another part saying, _"It's just dancing."_

And it _is, _right? I mean, it's not like she's asking me to go shag her in the loo or anything. Dancing is harmless enough, isn't it? Lots of people dance, it doesn't mean they want to go have a sordid affair or anything. But is it respectful to do that when you've already got a beautiful girlfriend?

"I don't know if I should," I admit.

Mitchum groans and rolls his eyes. "Don't be such a little bitch, Malfoy."

It shouldn't, but there's something in his tone that reminds me innately of Hogwarts and the way people used to talk to me there. If anyone _bothered _to speak to me, it was always to call me a little bitch or a queer or some other idiotic name of that variance.

"Come on, Seeker," Amy prods, smiling what's obviously a very pretty and provoking smile. "I didn't ask you to _marry _me. You girlfriend won't care, and even if she did, it's not like she'd find out anyway. Not unless you tell her, of course."

I don't say anything.

Amy's face breaks out into an even more amused sort of grin, and she lets out a little laugh. "Aww, you're so cute. You tell her everything you do, don't you?"

"No," I say immediately. And it's the truth. There's plenty I don't tell her, mostly because I rarely ever get to actually _speak _to her.

"Then what's the problem? One dance. I just think you're cute."

I hesitate for just another second, and I catch the taunting look that Mitchum's still shooting at me. I don't want to get labeled as the team's Biggest Loser, not when I just recently lost that title elsewhere. Hogwarts, minus Rose, was hell, and I'm finally past it. I certainly don't want to go back to it.

So I down the rest of my drink and follow Amy out to the middle of the room where various other groups of people are grinding on each other in time to the music that is blaring from the wireless. I just now realize how _loud _it is in here, and I wonder if someone had enough sense to catch a soundproof charm on the outside of the house. Otherwise, the Muggle neighbors are sure to start showing up and complaining. Oh well, it's not my house.

Amy pulls me close to her, and I don't fight her. I know I probably should, but there's no getting around the fact that she's an _extremely _attractive woman with an _extremely _perfect body. And I'm only human after all. The abundance of alcohol in my stomach probably helps me believe that excuse, but I push that thought aside. In fact, I try not to think about anything at all because if I'm not thinking, then I can ignore the little knot of guilt that's also taken up residence in my stomach.

And one dance later, as promised, Amy pulls away and smiles at me sweetly. "Your girlfriend is very lucky."

Great. Girlfriend. There's the guilt knot again.

We part ways then, and I go back to find some of my teammates who are hovering by the bar. I grab another drink and down it quickly. They're having a conversation about the Falcons, and I quickly jump in with them after grabbing yet _another _drink.

The rest of the night carries on much like that- alcohol and Quidditch, Quidditch and alcohol. I actually start having fun after several more drinks, and before long, I'm a lot more relaxed and feel absolutely no guilt whatsoever when some more of the _Penston _girls come up and start chatting with us. After all, when did beautiful girls wanting to talk Quidditch become a _bad _thing? I can't really think of anything hotter as a matter of fact. And when I dance with _them, _I can't remember why I ever hesitated in the first place.

I also forget that we're all in for torture in the morning, and by the time I clumsily Apparate back my cottage, it's well after three in the morning. All I want to do is fall into bed and sleep for two centuries. I've got a sinking feeling that I'm forgetting something, though, and that there was something I meant to do, but I'm far too intoxicated by that point to even think about it, much less actually remember.

And the next morning, Rose's letter still lies unanswered and forgotten on my sitting room desk.

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A/N: Quick update! I hope people don't hate me for the slight change in Scorpius, but I think it's a necessary sort of change. As for James, I'm glad no one was too shocked that he's still as much of a spoiled brat as ever- some personality traits are inherent, and James has a lot of not-so-great ones (though, of course, I still love him). Thanks for the reviews, you guys are the best! Hopefully I can get another one out fairly quickly, too!


	4. Al, October 4th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 4

**AL**

**October 4****th**

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My brother's a famous Quidditch star who regularly throws his personal life around in every Wizarding newspaper and magazine in the world, and he gets paid thousands and thousands of galleons for it.

My sister's a spoiled brat who treats everyone around her like they're her personal servants, and she completely gets away with it.

My mother's a stressed out part-time journalist who works less and less often all the time, and no one blames her because why would she want to write for a paper that makes the bulk of its money selling stories of son's sex life?

My father's a world famous hero who saved the world when he was younger than me and still has people worshipping his every move, and, oh yeah, he's my boss.

So where does that leave me?

Well, I've been out of school for more than a year, and things are okay, I suppose. I've got a job that I don't _completely _suck at, and aside from the whole Dad as Boss thing, I don't totally hate it, either. Of course, I'm about as far down the ladder as it's possible to get, and being a low-ranked Auror who's still technically in training isn't the most glamorous life. Mostly I get to work in the middle of the night and make next to nothing. So, no, it's not really the most _exciting _gig in the world.

At least there's Elisabeth.

Elisabeth Richardson who has pretty much done nothing but annoy me ever since we were eleven years old- yes, _that _Elisabeth. Only now, she doesn't annoy me so much. Not really at all actually. She's pretty much the only thing that makes working from 9 PM to 9 AM tolerable. She's as low on the pole as I am, so we get to be treated like shit together. It's always nice to have someone with you while you're getting kicked around and pissed on- misery loves company after all.

Who even knew Elisabeth wanted to be an Auror, though? No one, that's who. She surprised pretty much _everyone _when she announced that not only had she applied to the Auror Academy but that she had been accepted and was going to take their offer. And since I was the only other person in our group of friends to follow that path, it was just natural that we would stick to each other, especially since everyone else starting with us was either older or so damn serious that they just seemed fucking weird.

So that's how it started.

And after a little while, I realized that Elisabeth wasn't actually all that annoying, and I realized that she really wasn't the same gossipy hanger-on who always followed Rose around like her own personal assistant. Everyone grows up, I guess, and without her tight knit group of girls, Elisabeth was just like me- an overworked, underpaid, bottom of the food chain, graveyard shift Auror. And so we stuck together.

And then we started sleeping together.

And that's pretty much it. I mean, we were mates first, and then we started spending pretty much _all _of our time together. And then one rare night off, we got pissed in a dodgy pub, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in her bed and wasn't wearing any clothes. And so that's that, I suppose. We've been doing that ever since.

Is she my girlfriend?

No, she is not. Elisabeth is anti-labels, which is only slightly funny, considering the fact that when we younger, she was insane about it and had to have a boyfriend all the time. But that wore off, and I guess she really _did _stop having boyfriends- I just didn't notice too much. Do I _want _her to be my girlfriend? I don't know. I think she's pretty amazing, and she's certainly attractive. I like being around her, and she makes what could be total hell actually tolerable. But when you think about it, getting to do all the boyfriend things (sex) without actually having to _be _a boyfriend (buy gifts) is really pretty sweet. So I'm pretty okay with the way things are right now.

"If you keep yawning like that, you're eventually going to just pass out. And then where will you be?" Elisabeth looks up from whatever she's doing at her desk just in time to catch me yawning again.

"I guess I'll be asleep," I reply seriously.

"And then someone'll die while you're over there catching a kip."

I roll my eyes and pull a random folder towards me. "If someone dies, it'll be just as much your fault as mine," I point out. "And besides, the chances of something _that _exciting happening are pretty slim. We're not that lucky."

Elisabeth looks like she wants to say something about my insensitivity of implying that someone's death would be lucky for us because it would at least be something to do. But then she gives up and giggles- a habit she's never managed to break. "This is so fucking boring,"

She's right, of course. It's nearly three o'clock in the morning, and we're the only people in the entire office and most likely in the entire Ministry. Nothing has happened all night, and all we've got to keep us awake is a shitload of paperwork that doesn't do much at all in the way of curing my sleepiness.

"Think of how exciting this job must have been a long time ago when things actually happened," she goes on. "This is all your dad's fault."

I raise my eyebrows in question, and she puts on an overly serious look.

"Just think, if he hadn't saved the world, we'd probably have something to do right now. Because something interesting would probably be happening."

I nod slowly. "Yeah. Except I'd probably have never been born. Because both my parents would very likely be dead."

"Don't be so selfish," she cracks a smile. "Think of someone else besides yourself."

"Oh," I nod again. "Right, sorry. That's too selfish to wish to be alive."

"That's the spirit." She smiles widely. "Now tell me something interesting."

This is a game we always play when we get too tired in the middle of the night. We tell each other random bits of information in an attempt to stay awake and amuse ourselves. There's only one rule to the game- the story can be about anything and anyone, but it has to be true.

I think for a second. "Okay. When she was five years old, Lily ate a live worm because James told her that if she did, she would burp butterflies."

Elisabeth snorts and claps a hand over her mouth. "Oh, my god, why was he so evil?"

"_Was?" _I shake my head. "He would still tell her stuff like that if there was a chance she'd believe him."

"And what awful stuff did he make _you _eat?"

I shake my head. "Nope, you only get one. Your turn now."

She wrinkles her nose and thinks for a bit. Finally, "Oh! Susie told me that Eleanor Manning is pregnant and doesn't know who the father is!"

This isn't entirely surprising, seeing as how Eleanor Manning has been a slag since we were about thirteen years old. I did not, however, know that she was pregnant.

"Did you tell Rose that?"

Elisabeth rolls her eyes at this. "Rose takes about twelve years to answer a letter, so I don't even bother trying anymore."

This is true. Rose is definitely not the best person in the world for giving prompt replies to letters. I think she's depressed actually, though I wouldn't dare say that to her because she'd probably hex me all the way from Ireland. She doesn't have a lot of friends there, and she's inadvertently pushing away the friends she's got here by pretending like it doesn't matter to her. It _does _matter to her, it matters a lot actually. Rose isn't the type of person who does well when she's ostracized- she has an underlying need to be accepted, even though she'd never, ever admit it. I also don't think she's coping too well with Scorpius's newfound celebrity… True, he isn't anywhere close to the level of famous that James is, but anyone who plays Quidditch professionally has a certain level of celebrity. And anyone with any level of celebrity naturally has a bit of a following, which can be… well, a bit distracting, I imagine.

And I'm not sure how well Rose is coping with that.

She's used to having Scorpius's attention all to herself and used to him worshipping the ground she walks on. She's not used to him having admirers or having any kind of positive attention. The entire time she's known him, he's been at the top of the social outcast list, and he's never even had any other _friends _besides her, much less girls begging to give him one. So yes, I'm sure it is quite a bit of a shock and adjustment for her, but that doesn't mean she has to start ignoring all her friends.

As it is, Rose doesn't even know anything about Elisabeth and me- not that she's alone, of course, because _no one _knows about Elisabeth and me. But seeing as how Rose is my cousin and is, or at least _was, _Elisabeth's best friend, it would sort of stand to reason that she'd be the one exception to our secret keeping. After all, we _can't _tell anyone else- we'd lose our jobs. There are major rules in place when it comes to dating other Aurors, and those rules are as follow: Don't Do It. Period. Apparently it's some sort of distraction risk or something, and they really look down on that here. So that's another reason why I'm not too terribly upset that Elisabeth would rather just be friends with benefits. It's not as if I can take her home to my parents for dinner and introduce her as my new girlfriend, considering the fact that Dad is the one who has all the authority to fire us both. Will that eventually complicate things? Potentially, yes.

Oh, well.

For now, I really enjoy shagging her, and she looks fantastic naked. So I guess there really isn't too much more to it. It is what it is, and for now, that's just fine.

We spend the rest of the night going back and forth with the Tell Me Something Interesting game until, of course, we run out of things to tell. At that point, we decide to at least _attempt _some work, and we work on the piles of busywork that the higher ranks love to leave on our desks. And then when we get bored with that, we go for a quickie in my dad's office (we _think _we're the only people here, but you really can't be too careful). What? We may be Aurors-in-training, but we're still nineteen.

And I read somewhere that males reach their sexual peak at nineteen, so why would I waste that?

The sun eventually rises, people start rolling into work, and Elisabeth and I say goodbye. It's a morning ritual, and it's one we do very well. We split up and go about our normal business, and no one's any the wiser. I even say hello to half my family as they roll into work, and no one suspects a thing.

Of course, since I make the effort to say hello, I naturally get roped into babysitting because that's my life. I don't know how to say no, so when I drop into the main office to say hi to Aunt Hermione, I end up going home with a six year old.

"Oh, Al! Thank goodness! Do you mind watching Landon? Please? He was supposed to go to the Burrow, but Molly's sick. And I was just about to call your mum, but I think she may be working today. Really, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary, I know you're tired, but could you please watch him? Just for a little while? I'll leave at lunch, but I just have so many things to do that I couldn't just call off for the whole day. Thank you so much, you're an absolute life-saver!"

And that's that. She pushes Landon off on me, and he doesn't seem any more pleased about the arrangement than I do. For starters, he looks right pissed off to have been dragged out of bed this early in the first place, and to make matters worse, he's not too young to be annoyed at the fact that his mother is so busy that she has to bring him to work and _hope _she finds someone to pawn him off onto.

And really, Landon is a brat, so that just tops it all off.

He used to be quite sweet when he was younger, and everyone had really high hopes that he'd stay that way. But, well, yeah, he sort of took after Rose in every possible way, and she's the only one in the world who finds it amusing. It's ridiculous, really, because Hugo is nothing like that- he somehow turned out really completely normal, so chances are that it's not something their parents are _intentionally _doing. But the brains must be in the curls because Hugo's the only kid without curly hair, and he's the only one who isn't some sort of child prodigy. He isn't stupid by any means, but he isn't smart in the same way that Rose and Landon and their mum are (all the curls, see?)- not by a long shot. I feel bad for Hugo really. I mean, as if growing up being compared to Rose isn't awful enough, now it turns out that his kid brother is some sort of baby genius, too. Lucky for him that he's the only one most people like (at least the people in our family).

The difference between Landon and Rose, though, is that Rose grew up in a really sheltered sort of environment. Just like me, she didn't really know how famous her parents _really _were until she started Hogwarts. So growing up at least, she was pretty much just precocious, if a bit of a know-it-all. Landon, on the other hand, has been pretty much _raised _in the spotlight. His mother was sworn in as Minister of Magic when he was just three years old, so he's really never known any difference. It's all but impossible to shield him from _that _knowledge, so he _knows _how famous his parents are, and he _knows _that they're ridiculously important. Not to mention, of course, that he's spoiled beyond measure- not that that's entirely to do with his parents- he is, after all, the youngest grandchild in the entire family (not counting the kids that a couple of my cousins have popped out). And he's just too damn smart for his own good, which only adds to the overall brattiness. He's smart, and he knows it. So that's just a recipe for disaster all the way around.

"I don't need a _babysitter," _he says firmly as I drag him out of the Ministry and into the London street. Normally I'd just Apparate home, but I don't trust myself to get Landon and I both there with all of our pieces intact. Besides, I don't live too far from the Ministry entrance, and a little fresh air certainly couldn't _hurt _a finicky child.

"You think you can stay by yourself?" I grab his shoulder just in time before he walks out into the middle of the street and gets flattened by a double-decker bus.

"I'm not a _baby," _he sniffs, his pride clearly wounded now that he had to have his life saved in the first five minutes.

"You're six."

"That's not a _baby."_

"Fine," I shrug. "Then call it kid-sitting." I keep my eyes trained on the light to see when it's actually safe to cross (as if it's _ever _safe to cross a London street).

"You're practically a kid yourself." He crosses his arms over his chest and refuses to move when the light finally turns and I nudge him from the back.

"And you're about to be a _dead _kid," I mutter darkly, reaching down and grabbing him up around his waist. He hates that, of course, but I'm not about to miss the tiny window of cross-opportunity. So if I literally have to carry him across the street kicking and screaming, I'll do it.

And he does- kick and scream, I mean. An elderly woman looks down her nose at me from the other sidewalk and mutters something about child abuse. Oh, I could only _dream. _I swear, if there was ever a kid who needed to have some sense beat into him, it's this one. But the chances of _that _happening are pretty much slim to nil, so no luck.

"I hate you," Landon spits out angrily when I finally set him back on the ground.

"Wait while I cry," I roll my eyes and grab his hand. He does his best to pull it away, of course, but I hold it tightly. The last thing I need is to lose the Minister of Magic's son in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. That would just be _fantastic. _Not only would I be thrown in Azkaban, they'd have to let me out momentarily so that my entire family could take turns murdering me.

"One day I'll be bigger than you," he threatens through gritted teeth.

Yeah, you and the rest of the world, kid. I don't even bother gracing him with a response, I just drag him down the street to my walk-up. We get there in next to no time, and he drags his feet to the best of his ability as I pull him up the stairs. The flat is a bit too warm when I finally get the door open and shove Landon inside, so I open a couple of windows to let the fall breeze in. I love this flat- it's not too big, not too small. My parents actually own it- Dad bought it a few years ago when he and my mum were supposed to be splitting up, but since that never happened, they were stuck with a fantastic piece of property right in the middle of Muggle London. James moved in right after he finished Hogwarts, but then he got so rich that he decided he needed to move into a posh loft downtown. So I got dibs on this place, and Lily can go fuck herself if she thinks she's getting a turn at it next year when she finishes Hogwarts. Because I love it, and I want to live here forever.

I leave Landon in the front room to entertain himself. I'm sure he'll figure out something to do, even if it's nothing but destroying my flat. I call to him from the kitchen and ask if he's had breakfast, but he purposefully ignores me. I don't care. I grab a few eggs from the fridge and set them to frying themselves, and then I do the same with some bread, except I set it to toast itself. Then I just sit back and relax and wait until the food is finished. And when I wander back through to the sitting room and shove an egg sandwich at Landon, he doesn't argue for once and actually takes it without some smart comment.

I kick my trainers off and fall into the overstuffed sofa lazily. I'm ridiculously tired, and I feel my eyelids getting heavier and heavier by the second. I feel like I could probably sleep for a good eight or nine hours. Landon, of course, has other ideas.

"Did you make sure these eggs were done? My sister told me you can die from eating uncooked eggs."

"Your sister tells lies," I mumble, my eyes dropping closed against my own will.

"My _sister," _he corrects me, "is going to be a Healer."

"Your sister's also a pathological liar. She can't help it."

"I'm going to tell her you said that."

I shrug.

"And I'm going to tell her you're purposely feeding me raw eggs and trying to kill me."

I open one eye and look at him. If it were any other kid, it'd be amusing, but it's Landon and he's totally serious. Finally I sigh and open the other eye. I flick my wand at the bookshelf and easily catch a book that comes flying toward me. I hold it out to him.

"Here, practice your reading."

He looks at me like I'm some sort of slug and completely idiotic to boot. "I don't need to practice _reading," _he says pointedly. But he takes the book anyway when I shove it at him and grab the half-eating sandwich from his hand. "Hey!"

"I don't want you to die," I mumble through a mouthful of egg. "Read."

He glares at me as I finish off the rest of his sandwich, but he sits down by the coffee table with the book nonetheless and opens it up. I don't know what book it is, and I don't care. I just want to sleep…

I guess I succeed because the next thing I know, someone's knocking at my door. Landon's passed out with his head down on top of the open book. He's so much sweeter when he's sleeping- almost like a real human child and not a demon. I push myself up, careful not to disturb him, and go over to open the door.

_Yes._

It's Aunt Hermione, come to rescue me from devil-sitting duties. Two higher-ups from my department are flanking her from several meters away. I lift a hand to acknowledge them, and they nod at the gesture, both of them far more serious than they would be on any other assignment. However, the Aurors practically kill themselves trying to get on the Minister guard, and they all act so fake professional that it's almost amusing. Almost.

"Oh, thank you!" She seems out of breath and harried as she pushes into my flat and effectively shuts her guards outside. "You're a _life-safer!" _She grabs my shoulders and smashes her lips against my cheek in thanks.

"Landon's asleep," I tell her before she can go shouting for him through the flat.

"Oh, good," she lowers her voice immediately. "He was a bit cranky when I woke him up this morning, I don't think he got enough sleep."

Right. As if that kid needs an _excuse _to be cranky. I don't say this, of course, I just nod and wonder if she doesn't notice that _I'm _sleepy, too. After all, _Landon _didn't just pull a twelve hour overnight shift, now did he?

"I've been meaning to ask you," she stops for a brief second to catch her breath. I swear, she never stops running. "Have you heard from Rose lately?"

"A week ago maybe," I lean against the doorframe, and she picks absentmindedly at a cuticle.

"I haven't heard from her lately, either." She frowns. "I'm a little worried about her."

"She's fine, I'm sure. I dunno, maybe you should ask Scorpius? I'm sure she talks to him…"

"I don't think she's very happy, and I worry."

I don't roll my eyes, but I want to. Don't get me wrong, I love Rose probably more than I love anyone else in the entire world, but I know everything about her. And I know that she doesn't deserve half the worry people waste on her. She does shit like this on purpose and with an agenda. Yes, she could very well be unhappy, and yes, I really do think she's probably depressed. But she knows what she's doing by ignoring her mum's letters and purposely making her worry needlessly. Rose is nothing if not manipulative, and she knows exactly how to play people and how to get sympathy she doesn't deserve. She never should have stopped her therapy because while she may have grown up a bit, she's still got underlying psychotic tendencies (okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic, but whatever).

And because I'm the exact opposite, I have no choice but to play the concerned nephew and assure her mother that she's fine. "She's okay," I promise. "She's just really busy with her classes this term. Her load's really heavy." Truthfully I have no idea how heavy her load is because Rose doesn't talk to me enough for me to find out things like this, but Aunt Hermione doesn't need to know that.

She nods and puts on her best fake fine smile. "Okay. Well, good. Well, I'll just get Landon, and then you can get some rest, you look exhausted."

Well, thanks for noticing after you shove your kid off on me.

"Thanks," I put on my own fake smile. "I'm pretty tired."

She goes over to where Landon is passed out over the table and bends down to pick him up. It's lucky that he's a really small kid for his age because she can still lift him pretty easily. He mumbles something incoherent and immediately smothers his face into her neck. She kisses the top of his head and smoothes down his curls, and it's ridiculous how _normal _he looks when he's like that. If only he'd stay asleep all the time…

She leans up to kiss me on the cheek again, too. "Thank you," she says seriously. "Really, you saved my life."

I shrug and give her a half-grin. "It's no problem."

"If you talk to Rose, tell her to write her mother," she laughs, but I can tell it's a nervous laugh and not genuine.

"I will," I promise.

She nods and lifts a hand as best she can to wave. "Love you."

"Love you, too." I hold the door open for her and wave as she walks down the stairs to where her guard is waiting.

And when I close the door and head back to my bedroom, I can't help but be just a tiny bit pissed off at Rose. I don't understand why she does half the things she does, but I _really_ don't understand why she makes her mother miserable on purpose.

I wonder how long it'll be till her mum finally cracks.

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A/N: Sorry for the delay between chapters, but I had to go to New York and I've been in a whirlwind all week! Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you guys are awesome! I hope you like this one- please review!


	5. Rose, October 16th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 5

**ROSE**

**October 16****th**

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"You're not going to wear those shoes, are you?"

I look down at the brown flats and then up at Lola who is staring at the same brown flats with a look close to disgust.

"What's wrong them?"

"Nothing," she looks up, "if you're a nun."

I sigh and kick them off. "I just want to be comfortable," I mumble, shoving them out of the way with my foot.

"Men don't like comfortable," she says knowingly. "Men like something with a _heel."_

"Not when they're on the shorter side…"

Lola rolls her eyes. "He's not _that _short."

"He doesn't care about my shoes."

"God, it's no wonder you haven't had sex in over two months."

I gape at her. But what can I say? It's the truth. Two months and four days to be exact. God, yes, I know- it's pathetic. And trust me, it's not something that I like bragging about. Still, though, I have to at least _try _and defend myself.

"That is _not _my fault. It's not easy to get back and forth between countries, you know?"

Lola just rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Your mother _runs _the country, or have you forgotten that? Stop making excuses, change your shoes, and go get some."

And that's Lola for you- terribly blunt when it comes to things that normal people have at least a _bit _of discretion about. But not Lola. She's got absolutely no shame whatsoever.

I won't lie and say that her advice doesn't sound inviting, though, because it definitely does. I really, _really _want to just _go get some. _I don't know if it'll be that easy, though, considering the fact that Scorpius doesn't even know I'm coming to see him, not to mention, of course, that it's the first match of the season, so I'm sure he'll be fairly busy with all of that, of course. But hopefully it'll be a good surprise; after all, he's asked me to come to the match several times, and I've continuously told him that I couldn't afford to miss classes. But what the hell? I'm so desperate right now that I'd blow off a hell of a lot more than a few classes for the chance to actually _see _him.

I miss him terribly- really a ridiculous amount. It's been over a year, but I'm still not used to not seeing him every day, and I'm _definitely _not used to this days between letters thing that's been going on lately. It sucks, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I absolutely hate it. So, yes, I'd do just about anything right now to see him, so who cares if I've got an exam and an essay due? I'm sure I'll be able to make it up, and if I can't, well, I'm not sure I care too much…

I take Lola's advice and grab the pair of offered heels out of her hand. She's summoned them from her own closet, which means they probably cost more than some people's monthly rent. That's the thing about Lola- she isn't particularly wealthy, but she _always _has the best of everything. They are nice shoes, though, and they look nice with the dress she's thrown me into. I usually make fun of girls who wear dresses and heels to Quidditch matches, but I have to admit that it _does _look rather nice.

I start to pull my hair up, but Lola smacks my arm, and I immediately drop it. "Leave it down," she orders. "Hair like yours has the potential to make men come in their trousers- it's like a sex invite right out there for all the world to see."

My face heats up right away, of course, because seriously, who _talks _like that? But it is true that my hair _does _seem to be a bit of a turn-on, though I've absolutely no idea _why. _It's positively horrid if you ask me, but no one ever does- ask me, I mean.

"God, I'd give anything for your hair. You're so lucky, Rose."

Okay, now she's overdoing it. But the awful part is that she's serious.

"It's lucky you've got a boyfriend really because I doubt you'd ever be able to keep up with all the men who'd be after you otherwise. Your hair practically _screams _'fuck me.' It's just not fair…"

"You," I tell her with complete sincerity, "are insane."

"Oh, don't act like he doesn't yank it."

My mouth probably comes close to literally hitting the floor. "_Stop." _But she's right, of course. I don't know why, but there's something about my hair that he really _does _seem to like, and sometimes my head ends up ridiculously sore, though I'm not about to _admit _that.

"You act as if I don't know men," she tells me haughtily.

"Oh, I know you _know _them," I retort promptly. "I see the evidence of that every single morning when I run into a different one in the kitchen at breakfast."

Lola just smirks, though. "Don't be jealous, darling. Go now and get your own."

I grab my bag and bid her goodbye with a quick hug and a wave. Then I set off to Apparate to the border, which I dread immensely. And for good reason, too, because the second I get there, I'm immediately accosted by four different members of the international Auror department who sweep me away from the small crowd of people waiting for clearance and whisk me away to a private room. This, of course, does nothing but draw attention to me, and everyone in the entire vicinity nearly breaks their necks trying to see what's going on and who has arrived. I don't think many of them recognize me at first, but the whispers start quickly enough, and I hear everything from my name to my mum's name to Uncle Harry's name being thrown around. And I sort of want to vomit because I _hate _this.

"Miss Weasley, we weren't informed of your travel plans today," one of the international team called Nixon says when they've successfully ushered me away from the crowd and into the small office.

I try not to roll my eyes and not to sound too much like a bitch (but, of course, sometimes that's difficult for me). "I'm not required to inform anyone if I plan to travel," I say curtly.

"Of course not," he says quickly. "But for safety precautions, it's always best to have advance notice."

I just swing my hair and don't even bother replying. There's no use in arguing, as apparently there are still people convinced that I'm going to be abducted or murdered. I don't know where these people where when I actually _was _abducted. Now that I'm old enough to take care of myself, they're far more concerned. Of course, it's not as bad as it was when Mum first took office, and the Ministry hired someone to trail me the entire summer… I had to go to Uncle Harry and cry (literally) to get him to call that whole mess off. They tried to do it again when I moved to Ireland, but luckily, I was able to convince them that I would be fine on my own. But you see what an awful pain in the arse it is whenever I try to travel and the international affairs office gets involved.

"Where are you planning to travel?" Nixon asks with fake kindness. His three cronies flank him like some sort of guard or something.

"I'm going to Tutshill," I say clearly. "To see my boyfriend play Quidditch." I cross my arms across my chest. "If there's nothing else, I'd like to just do my paperwork and get a move on, I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Of course," Nixon nods briskly. "I just have to contact the British Ministry to inform them of your arrival."

I know this is coming obviously, as I've done this plenty of times before, but it doesn't stop me wanting to scream and pull my hair out. I also know it could potentially take _forever, _so I flop myself down into a chair and wait impatiently as Nixon and one of his buddies leave the room. I'm still being babysat by two men, though, which is dandy. I wonder if this is how prisoners feel? I sigh loudly to show my annoyance and busy myself by picking at a hangnail. Lola would kill me for that- I'm surprised she didn't tie me down and force me into a manicure actually.

After what seems like seven _hours _(but is really just seven minutes according to the antique clock on the wall), the Aurors return. "Your uncle would like to speak to you."

Jesus Christ. Ugh. I roll my eyes and shove myself into a standing position. When Nixon holds the door open for me, I purposely knock into him and stomp loudly down the hall to where the fire's lit, and sure enough, my uncle's head is floating amid the flames.

I don't say anything, I just stand there with my arms crossed and wait for him to say whatever he has to say. Apparently what he has to say, though, is nothing but a bunch of questions.

"Where are you going?"

"I want to go to the Quidditch match," I say snappily, knowing I should watch my tone before I end up in trouble. Then I think about how stupid it is to worry about being in trouble when I'm this far away, though I'm sure they'd manage it _somehow…_

"Which match?"

_That _really makes me want to scream. Which fucking match does he _think? _Does he think I'm that eager to see _James _play? God.

"Scorpius's," I say, stating the very obvious.

"Your parents didn't tell me you were coming to England."

"They didn't _know," _I snap. "I just decided," I calm my tone down just a bit when he fixes me with a Look.

"Don't you have classes?"

_Deep breath. _I tell myself this over and over again because my first instinct is to tell him to shove off and stay out of m business. I know if I do that, though, that I'll get blessed out, not to mention the fact that he probably wouldn't give me clearance to enter the country.

"I can make them up," I answer calmly, though that's probably a lie. I don't particularly care.

"Don't you think it's a bit cold to be wearing a dress that short?"

Oh, _great. _I try not to blush, but it's _embarrassing _being lectured like this in front of total strangers. I'm not a child after all.

"I'm fine," I mutter, hating him just a little bit for humiliating me. "Please, can I just go now? I'm already running late…"

"Rose, I'm not sure you should be missing class."

"Please?" I ask again, this time with a bit more whine. "Uncle Harry, _please." _I lower my voice significantly and glance behind me briefly at the men who are currently watching me. "It's important…"

He's a bit harder to get over on than my parents, but even he isn't completely resistant when I turn up the pitiful factor. I try to make my eyes as sad and pleading as possible, and I'm pretty sure I can stir up a few tears if worse comes to worst. I've never understood that anyway- he's my godfather, he's supposed to _spoil _me, not be even harder on me than my own parents are. I think he misunderstands that job title because he only had a godfather for like a year or something.

"Fine," he finally concedes. "But make sure you speak with your professors and make arrangements to make up what you miss."

"I will," I promise emptily.

"And put on a coat, it's cold outside."

I nod again and blow him a kiss that I'm sure he sees right through. He doesn't call me on it at least, and twenty minutes later, my paperwork is completed, and I find myself Apparating right to a safe spot about fifty yards away from the stadium. It hits me suddenly that I haven't even got a ticket to this match… How could I be so _stupid? _There are tons of people here, loads and loads of fans and press and everything in between. I guess because the Tornados are supposed to be really fantastic this year or something.

I could always go up to the gate and plead my case as both the Seeker's girlfriend _and _the Minister of Magic's daughter, but I try not to make a habit of playing that card. It goes against everything I believe in after all and accentuates everything I despise. So instead, I settle for a step-up from that and stake out a scalper who's trying to push his tickets off onto passersby.

I don't know for sure that he recognizes me straight away, but a certain evil little smirk goes across his face when I approach. I ignore it.

"How much?"

He purses his lips for a second and pretends to think. "Six-hundred."

"Six-hundred _what?" _I ask disbelievingly.

"Six-hundred galleons," he confirms my shock.

"For a _ticket?!" _My mouth falls open yet again.

"Sold out match, love, take it or leave it."

I glare at him and contemplate telling him I've got _very _close ties to the Auror department, but I don't. Instead, I just narrow my eyes and grab the money out of my bag. This means, of course, that I'll have absolutely no money whatsoever for the rest of the weekend unless I make a trip to the bank. I suppose I don't really have much of a choice, though, considering the fact that I repeatedly turned down the _free_ VIP box tickets Scorpius tried to give me for the last two months because I was too convinced that I couldn't skive off classes.

I practically throw the money at him and snatch the ticket out of his hand hatefully. I'm pretty sure I hear him snicker behind my back as I walk away, probably congratulating himself on being such a fabulous salesman or some shit. Whatever. I've got to get into this match one way or the other- either by going broke or playing the name card. I'll take going broke.

Once I'm through the ticket gate, things are much easier. I've been to a few of the matches, so when I make my way down to the changing rooms, I'm lucky enough to spot a familiar face straight away. One of the guards is a bloke named Davis, and while there are lots of Quidditch groupies and fans lining the downstairs hallway, he's keeping them all pushed back at a good distance. He ushers me straight to the front, though, and lets me through the blocked area. He's always been really nice to me, and I'm _so _happy I've been mostly nice to him as well because otherwise, I don't know how in the world I'd manage to actually get back here. I wouldn't, I'm sure.

I ignore the angry shouts of people who have obviously been standing there for awhile hoping to get a glance at any of the players and maybe (if they're ridiculously lucky) an autograph. Davis shoos me down the corridor before turning back to keep the forever growing crowd at bay. I don't particularly know where I'm going, but I just follow the hallway until I hear voices. Apparently the team is doing press because there are several reporters milling around interviewing some of the players and jotting down notes, but Scorpius isn't busy with any of them. Instead, he's standing on the other side of the room with his head down talking to one of his teammates. His back is mostly turned to me, but, of course, I spot him easily because nobody else in the universe naturally has hair that shade of blonde- no one over four feet tall anyway.

I sneak up on him easily, and he doesn't see me coming. So when I tap him on the shoulder and say, "Hey!" he jumps a little bit and spins around in shock.

And I love the way he looks at me. _Love _it. I don't know how to explain it, but he just looks so genuinely happy to see me that I almost squee out loud. But of course I don't because there are people around.

"Rose! What are you doing here?"

I shrug. "Well, I heard this team was supposed to be pretty good, so I thought I'd show up…"

He laughs, and then I can't take it anymore. I throw my arms around his neck and would very likely actually jump into his arms if it weren't for the fact that my heels are making us almost equal height. Stupid Lola.

He hugs me back just as tightly, and he doesn't waste any time going straight for the kiss. And did I mention that I love kissing him? Well, I do. A _lot. _I taught him everything he knows, and perhaps I should have just stayed on at Hogwarts because apparently I am a _fantastic _teacher. And I won't lie and say I'm not a bit enamored by the fact that not only am I the only girl he's ever been in love with, I'm also the only girl he's ever even _kissed. _I'm not normally the sappy type, but there's something about that that makes me really happy.

"I didn't think you could come," he says when we finally break for air.

"I'm skiving," I shrug, and he smiles again as he reaches down to take my hand.

"What's got into you?" he asks, and we walk away from the crowd some to a much less congested area of the room. "Blowing off classes… tsk, tsk."

"Not only classes," I correct him. "An exam and an essay as well."

"You really didn't have to," he says more seriously, but I just shake my head.

"I wanted to."

And then he smiles even more, and I want to maybe melt into a puddle in the middle of the floor. It's ridiculous that he still has that effect on me, but I can't help it. "I'm glad you did."

He kisses me again then, and I think maybe I really _will _melt. Maybe it's because it's been two months and four days, but every single nerve-ending in my body seems to light up, and all I want to do is drag him back to the changing rooms and do really awful, dirty things. But I don't because there are people around, and I was raised with a _bit _of dignity (in other words, my mother would murder me). Not to mention, of course, that he's getting paid plenty of money to hit the air very soon. So I settle for the kiss, at least for right now.

I slip my arms back around his neck, and this time when the kiss fades, his forehead drops to mine. His eyes are the most amazing color, a really clear gray that you don't see on a normal basis, and his eyelashes are as pretty as any girl's up close like this.

"I paid six-hundred galleons to get in here," I say after a second. Those beautiful eyes go wide, and he's speechless for a moment before he finally sputters a laugh.

"Are you insane?"

I shrug. "I suppose it depends on who you ask…"

"I'm so happy you're here," he whispers sincerely, and his eyes search mine out in exactly the same way that always makes me lose my breath just a little bit. It also makes me forget that I should probably be somewhat hacked off at him for taking so long to answer my letters. I can't think about anything except the fact that I'm so horribly in love that I may as well just sign over the rights to my own soul because it really doesn't seem as if I have any control over any of my emotions or thoughts anymore.

And I don't really mind.

"And you look," his eyes dip quickly all the way down my body and legs to my feet, "amazing." He finishes by meeting my gaze again in a way that makes all those nerve-endings light up again and go crazy.

Brilliant Lola.

"You can stay tonight, right?" he asks, and I nod.

"All weekend."

"_Fantastic_." He grins and then pulls back just a bit. "My parents are here."

Well, way to kill the mood. I pull a face and answer dully, "Oh, wonderful…" I'm sure they'll be positively _thrilled _to see _me._

Scorpius just laughs and shrugs, though. "We'll ditch them."

"_Fantastic." _I bite my lip and grin back.

But then a whistle sounds from somewhere behind us, and Scorpius leans up to look over my shoulder. "I've got to go," he says, and he sounds truly sorry.

I don't want him to go, either, but I'm very supportive, see, so I just put on my best Good Girlfriend smile and say, "Good luck!"

But he just shakes his head and runs his hand over a curl before tucking it behind my shoulder (Lola's right about the hair, I will never, ever, ever tell her that to her face). "I don't need it now."

And then he kisses me once more really quick and heads off to join the rest of his team. I watch him go, and then I head back up toward the stands. And everything feels _fabulous. _As awful as I've felt lately… it suddenly doesn't even matter anymore. All that matters is that I'm here now, and we've got an entire weekend. I can't help the smile that seems to be permanently etched across my face. Everything's okay.

And it's _definitely_ worth six-hundred galleons.

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A/N: Ah! See? I can write happiness once in awhile… Thanks to everyone who's reading and especially to everyone who's reviewing, I love you!!


	6. Scorpius, October 18th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 6

**SCORPIUS**

**October 18****th**

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So maybe ditching the parents wasn't _quite _as simple as I thought it would be.

Honestly, I imagined that the second they saw Rose, they'd cancel our dinner plans and return home. After all, it's not as if she's their favorite person in the world. Rose and I both do our best to avoid each other's families at all costs, simply because neither of our families appreciates the other, which sort of makes for awkward dinner conversation. I was wrong, though, because they absolutely insisted on keeping our plans and squeezing Rose into the table as well.

Of course, I was immediately suspicious (as was Rose) because that's not something that would normally happen at all. Father just said it was a victory dinner and that we would have whatever we wanted because starting the season on a good note is always important. And a good note it was, too. The final score was 320 to 90, and I got the Snitch in less than an hour. Father likes the fact that I play Quidditch- it's the _only _thing he likes that I do really, but at least it's something- and he and my mother were waiting downstairs outside of the press room when I finally finished. Rose was already down there, of course, as she'd appeared nearly straight after the match was finished and had spent the press conference hiding in a back corner of the room. Seriously, I don't know how to explain the way it feels just to know that she's there- it's like instant calm, and nothing else really matters. And all in the world that I wanted to do was take her home and have her all to myself, but my parents held true to their promise of dinner, and we ran straight into them as we left the press conference.

And their feelings at seeing the both of us weren't that difficult to decipher.

Honestly, Mother doesn't hate Rose. She isn't exactly over the moon about certain things like her mother's politics, and she adheres to the normal regimen of Malfoy/Weasley/Potter distaste that I suppose she thinks is her marital duty. But she appreciates the fact that Rose is so smart (though I'm sure she thinks she should hide her intelligence just a bit because supposedly men think it's a turnoff when women are too vocal about their knowledge), and she honestly thinks Rose is "quite beautiful, in a really striking sort of way" (I think that probably translates to, 'she's tall, thin, and has enough money to wear designer clothing').

And Father… Well, I'm not lying when I say that if it weren't for the fact that her last name is Weasley, Father would be in love with her himself. I think he's secretly quite amused by her outright bitchiness, and he annoys her and goads her into arguments on purpose, I think, just to see her get pissed off. Of course, he absolutely hates her parents, but I think it's difficult for him to hate _her, _even though he certainly likes to pretend like he does. Rose doesn't believe me when I say that he secretly enjoys her, and she can't help letting herself get dragged into his purposely set up aggravations.

Her own mother is much like my own, in that she doesn't outright _hate _me. In fact, she's normally very polite to me and even goes out of her way with efforts to include me in conversations and the such. Of course, I know that when she looks at me, she sees my father, and to say that she isn't the biggest fan of my father would be an extreme understatement. She tries at least, and she's never once done anything so outrageous as forbidding Rose to be with me or anything like that. She's ridiculously intelligent, of course, and I think that helps her to at least pretend as if she isn't dying inside at the thought of her only daughter being with the only son of her oldest enemy. Or at least that's what I choose to pretend.

Her father, well, he certainly isn't secretly amused by me or anything close to it. He still hasn't got past the fact that Rose is with me, and I think he's probably still trying to convince himself that it's just a rebellion phase and that she'll eventually grow out of it. For what it's worth, though, he's only actually resorted to physical violence once, and in his defense, I probably _shouldn't _have had my hand in _that _particular spot when her parents were anywhere in the near vicinity, much less right downstairs… That was a couple of years ago, I think we were probably sixteen, and needless to say, her father wasn't _thrilled_ when he came upstairs to call us for dinner (though I still say he burst in there unannounced like that on purpose just hoping for an excuse to kick my arse). After that, my nose didn't completely heal for a week, Rose didn't talk to her father for a month, and I wasn't invited back to their house for a year. All in all, I suppose it could have been much worse.

When my parents spotted us after the match, neither one of them did too much in the way of hiding their natural reactions, and it was obvious that they had neither expected, nor were particularly looking forward to, having Rose join us. There is, after all, a certain façade that must be adhered to when it comes to welcoming her with open arms, so that's where we were after the match. Mother nodded at her, and Father did his best to ignore her altogether (which is what he always does at first until he finally gets into the mood to annoy and pester her. They congratulated me on the match, and I thanked them. And then I tried to be subtle and say how tired I was and how I just wanted to get home.

No luck.

"Nonsense!" Mother said, grabbing my elbow as we walked through the basement of the stadium. "You've got to eat, haven't you?"

And all I could do was hope that Rose caught the apologetic look in my eyes.

The number of dining choices in Tutshill (and, in fact, Tidenham as a whole) are limited to a few privately-owned restaurants. I suggested going to Bristol, but Mother looked as if she needed a shower from the mere _suggestion. _Father wanted to Apparate all the way to London, but I managed to put a stop to that thought process by claiming that I really was "completely exhausted." Finally, we settled on a little waterfront restaurant a couple of villages over (we didn't want to be bothered by Quidditch fans), and Rose couldn't help herself from making a snide comment about how funny it was that they didn't despise the idea of being around Muggles if said Muggles were going to be serving them and preparing food for them.

We were seated against floor to ceiling glass windows that line up against the waterfront, and unsurprisingly, each one of us ordered a rather hard drink to start with (we'd need it to get through the evening, no doubt). And I very nearly choked when Rose didn't even bother opening her menu and just flat-out told the waitress that she'd have whatever the most expensive thing on the menu was. She said it with such a wide-eyed innocent look on her face that it took everything I had not to grab her and kiss the crap out of her just for being so amazing.

And the resulting conversation that took place while we were waiting on our food was as lovely as our conversations always are…

Father couldn't help but try and get at Rose just a bit by laying on the politeness in a very thick and obviously fake manner. "And how are your parents, dear?" He added the _dear _on there for extra emphasis of his sarcasm.

Rose, because she is awesome, just smiled widely and replied, "Oh, they're fantastic! I'll tell them you were asking after them, I'm sure it'll simply _thrill _them."

Mother only sent her filet back once, which really had to be some sort of record. Rose barely touched her £54 grilled lobster, which wasn't surprising, seeing as how she doesn't really like lobster at all and only ordered it because of the price. Father and I both enjoyed our food, though I lost half of mine to Rose who much prefers roast beef to seafood of any sort. And by the time the bill was paid, we'd all had a few more drinks as well, which really helped to heighten the argument that Father dragged Rose into regarding the latest of her mother's implemented policies regarding the restriction of organizations with strict blood-driven admissions policies. He wanted to know how it wasn't hypocritical to forbid people from joining organizations based on blood status- how it was any worse to say that people couldn't start organizations that required certain blood status than to say that people of certain blood statuses couldn't join said organizations. I sort of understood the question he was trying to ask, but Rose is far too hot-tempered to even humor such a suggestion, especially when she's half-drunk. She accused him of being a hateful bigot, which, of course, amused him to no end.

The truth of the matter is that Father doesn't really care about those policies, as he doesn't belong to any of those groups in the first place. Now my _grandfather, _on the other hand, is a charter member of many of them, but Father himself really doesn't have any sort of interest in them. Even more ironic is that Rose really doesn't give a crap about any of it, either. She is normally quite bored by talk of political issues and legal matters, and she isn't nearly as passionate about equal rights for all beings as her mother is. In fact, she asked me one time if I thought there was any way that her mother would find out if she employed a house-elf while she was in Ireland. I told her the answer was probably yes, and she sullenly agreed. But you see, both Rose and my father engaged themselves in a heated debate about an issue that neither of them have much interest in merely for the sake of arguing.

And by the time we returned to my cottage later that night, Rose was in a right foul mood. Of course, it didn't take me very long to calm her down and get her in a better mood. And I even had enough sense to make sure no one would bother us by turning off the fire's link and putting a temporary anti-Apparating charm on the house. After all, the inevitable team party that was taking place nearby would certainly spawn several invitation attempts, even though I'd already said I wouldn't be there. Honestly, a part of me _did _want to go to the party because I already knew it would be amazing and the entire team would be there and who knows who else… But really, it was an easy decision- I'd trade all of that and all of them for _her._

Did I mention I love her?

Really, _really _I love her. And sometimes I think I don't tell her enough or something because sometimes I wonder if she really knows. I mean, of course she _knows, _but I wonder if she knows I think about her every single day and miss her every single day. I don't like the situation we're in now where she's so far away, and even though life doesn't completely suck, I'm still pretty sure that I'd trade it all if it meant I got to wake up like this every single morning.

Rose is a _sound _sleeper. She literally falls asleep in one position and wakes up in that same spot. I never knew that until I started sleeping with her- _technically _sleeping with her, of course, because while shagging in library study rooms and broom closets is easy enough to do at school, you've got to have a good bit more guts to actually _sleep _together, and even though Rose never cared at all to break rules or get into trouble, I was never quite that brave. So it took awhile before we actually ended up _sleeping _with each other. But once we did, that was the first thing I noticed. She makes no noise whatsoever in her sleep, nor does she so much as roll over; I used to get scared and check several times during the night to make sure she was actually breathing.

When I wake up, she's still fast asleep, and I wish I had a camera just so I could take a picture of how lovely she looks. Her cheeks are flushed to a much lighter shade of red than her usual blush, and her hair is thrown all around her head on the pillow in a completely mad sort of way that does horrible things to my self-control. She's curled up in a little ball wearing nothing but a Tornados sweatshirt that she pulled on right before falling asleep last night because she said she was cold. If she's still cold, I'm sure I can come up with a number of ways to warm her up, but she doesn't really seem to be suffering, not with those pink cheeks. Because I like to torture myself, I have to test my theory, and I reach out very carefully and brush just the tips of my fingers to her cheek. Just as I suspected, they're quite warm, and they even tinge just a bit darker at my touch.

I don't know why it can't be like this all the time. Well, of course, I know _why, _but I really wish it didn't have to be. I wish Ireland didn't exist. I wish there was a school _here _that she wanted to go to. I wish she lived here and that I got to sleep beside her every night and wake up like this every morning. However, as my grandfather told me a long time ago (back before he stopped speaking to me), wishes are pointless. _'Wish in one pot and shit in the other, and see which one fills faster.' _It was one of the crudest and most common things I ever heard him say, but for some reason, it's also one of the only things that ever stuck.

It doesn't really matter anyway because this is all just temporary. She's only got just the rest of this year and then one more, and then she'll be able to come back to England. And once she's back in England, we can see each other all the time. There're hospitals all over, so it's not even as if she has to go back to London if she doesn't want to (though she is a bit attached to London- having grown up there, she sees a lot more of its appeal than I do). But even if she does, Apparating _within _the country is much easier than fighting the international border crowds, especially for her. So if we can just make it through the next couple of years, everything will be fine.

It's almost nine o'clock, and she'll have to be off soon if she wants to make it back in time for her evening workshop, which she claims she really can't miss. Monday came far too quickly if you ask me. We didn't leave the cottage at all yesterday, and we spent the entire day together and ignoring the rest of the world. I asked her if maybe she wanted to go give her parents a quick visit while she was here, but she said she didn't. I didn't press it because as much as I sort of love arguing with her, I don't want to do it when we've only got a couple of days. I know her parents want her to visit more, and I have a feeling that she ignores quite a bit of their correspondence as well, not that I can really say anything, of course, as I'm sort of shit at answering letters lately, too. But her mother, especially, worries about her a lot; in fact, she didn't want her to go to Ireland at all, though she obviously never came out and said that. She wouldn't try to discourage Rose from doing what she wants, but it was obvious in many of the things she said while Rose was preparing to leave. Rose, when she comes to England, normally comes straight to me. And I'm not complaining at all, of course, because I absolutely _love _having her full undivided attention. But I don't want her to ignore her family, either, because they really care about her (even if she doesn't always see it herself).

Deciding not to dwell on it, I carefully slip out of bed and out to the kitchen to make breakfast. Of course, I put some clothes on first because otherwise that would be quite unsanitary, wouldn't it? The front of the house is much chillier than the bedroom, but that's mostly to do with the fire that's lit in the bedroom's fireplace. There isn't a fireplace in the kitchen, so I pull up the shades, hoping to let some sunshine in and naturally warm the room up. When I pull the shade, though, I'm met with an irritated looking owl who is very nearly glaring at me through the paned glass.

I crack the window just enough to let the owl in and shudder at the immediate rush of cool air that flies in through the small crack. When did it get so bloody _cold? _The owl flies over to a chair and perches on the back; he sticks his leg out impatiently, and I carefully untie the letter before reaching into a jar on the counter and tossing him a couple of treats.

_Fuckhead! Where the fuck are you?! We've been trying to call you all day, and you've got your line shut off! I can't believe you missed that party last night- all the girls were there, and Miss April was so pissed that she dragged Lindley down to the floor with her and gave him one right there in front of everyone! I can't believe you missed it! I know your woman's in town, but fuck, where are your priorities, mate?! You can't go around missing shit like that, it's too good! Anyway, hit me up if you ever get your balls back, and I'll fill you in on the rest._

_Kelvin_

So I guess I missed live-action pornography. Genius. Too bad I really can't care too much, seeing as how what I actually _got _was much better, I'm sure. Still, I'm a _tiny _bit put off that I missed the first victory party of the season- but just a bit. Rose is definitely better, but maybe one day I can talk her into joining me at one of the parties. That way she can see how much fun they are, too, and she can get to know my friends a little better. She hardly knows them at all really, and I really think she'd like them if she were just around them a bit more. When she's done with school, she can spend a lot more time here, and I'll get her interested in them. That way, they can be her friends, too. We've never had the same friends before. Well, really, I've never really had any friends until I got here, but even in school, Rose's friends didn't care for me too much, and they certainly never came around and tried to make me feel like a part of their group.

In fact, the only person around her who was ever actually _nice _to me at school was her little brother, but Rose and Hugo aren't best friends by any means, so he doesn't really count. I think he's probably the only genuinely nice person in her family altogether- maybe he's secretly adopted or something… Her baby brother (who is six now and not really a baby at all) is just evil, and I say that in the most honest and sincere way possible. He is really evil, and it's horrible because he _looks _so sweet and innocent- he's still tiny, really small for his age, and he's got these huge brown eyes that peek out from this whole floppy mop of red curls. Too bad he was born of Satan. Rose is mad about him, though, and he's crazy attached to her, which is odd considering the fact that she was already in school by the time he was born, and they've never really lived together for more than a couple of months at a time. And then the Potters, who I guess are pretty much as near to siblings to her as you can get, well, none of them are particularly nice, either. Al likes to _pretend _that he's nice, and I think he fools a lot of people, but he's really just as stuck up and spoiled as the rest of them- he just hides it better. He's got a superiority complex that's developed from convincing himself that he's _not _like them, which is even worse in a way. And he's never been overly nice to me in the least- he eventually stopped being an outright arse, but he never went out of his way to make me feel welcome. James, well, there isn't much to say about James except that he is who he is. At least he doesn't think he's something else, though, like Al who tries to pretend he's not really just a stuck up, spoiled rich kid at his very core. All the guys on my team _hate _James Potter, probably because he gets paid more than all of us put together and is on a worse team. But say what you will about him, he's very smart in his own way. He's made himself into a sort of brand name, and every single year, teams fight over signing him because while he _is _a talented Chaser, he brings so much publicity with him that it makes up for the millions of galleons he gets paid each season. And then there's the youngest Potter, Lily, who may as well sew a tiara into her hair, seeing as how she honestly really does fancy herself a princess. Not that I've been there lately, but she's very probably the prettiest girl at Hogwarts right now, and she certainly knows it. She's that girl that every boy around her wants and every girl around her wants to be. She's gorgeous and popular and a textbook Mean Girl, and she owns every bit of it. She has no use for people who don't do exactly what she says when she says it, and she's one of those girls who has no qualms with dropping her friends in the blink of the eye because she always knows there's a queue lined up through the building waiting to take their places.

And Rose… Well, she's a bit spoiled herself, and she can definitely be bratty and mean when she wants to be. But she is getting better at controlling it, and I'm a little bit partial to her, so I tend not to see it in her as much as I see it in the rest of them.

Breakfast is easy to prepare, as there's very little for me to actually _do _rather than throw a few eggs and a couple of sausages into a pan and wave my wand at them. She'll appreciate breakfast in bed, and if she wants to thank me, well, then that's an added plus. Really I just want to make her happy- and wake her up, of course, because if I let her sleep too late and she ends up missing her workshop, she'll probably be quite hacked off at me.

When the breakfast is arranged on the tray, I set it to levitate back into the bedroom. It's _much _warmer in here, and I shut the door in order to keep the warmness in.

I set the tray down on the bedside table and sit back down behind Rose who, unsurprisingly, hasn't moved an inch since I left. I wake her up carefully, knowing all too well that if she wakes up too abruptly that she'll be more angry than impressed at my actions. I do a good job of it, too, because when she does wake up, her eyes aren't flashing; instead they're very soft and appreciative.

"Morning," I say quietly, and she smiles sweetly. She looks so cute and a little bit younger than she normally does.

"You smell good," she mumbles.

"It's the sausages," I tell her, leaning across her to grab the breakfast tray. Her face lights up as she sits up. I balance the tray in front of her, and she immediately grabs the fork and tucks in.

"What time is it?" she asks when she finally stops to breathe.

"A little after nine."

She frowns and takes a sip of her juice. "I don't want to go," she says quietly.

"Then don't." She offers me a forkful of egg, and I eat even though I'm not very hungry.

"Don't tempt me," she says darkly, offering me the juice as well.

"Just stay here forever." I smile at her, joking, of course, because we both know she has to leave and that she certainly can't stay here forever.

Rose sighs and pretends to think it over. Finally she shakes her head. "As much as I'd love to, I can't let Laura Ellis win, now can I?"

I laugh and grab the juice off her tray again. Rose has done little else besides bitch about how much she hates Laura Ellis in the year or so that she's been at the medical academy. It's funny because Laura has _always _hated Rose, but Rose never paid her much attention until they both got accepted into the same program. Apparently Laura has made it her mission in life to make Rose as miserable as possible, and Rose has made it her own mission to beat her in _everything. _So hopefully that'll stop when they finish school- hopefully they don't get jobs at the same hospital and spend the rest of their lives trying to one-up each other at the expense of their patients… I'm just saying.

"I hate her," Rose says unnecessarily.

"I know," I sigh.

"I wish she'd fail out of school."

"Chances aren't good."

She shakes her head and stabs a sausage rather forcefully with her fork. "No," she agrees huffily, "they aren't."

"You're much smarter than she is." This is the easiest way to get on Rose's good side- play up her intelligence.

And she nods breezily. "I know," she deadpans.

"And much prettier."

"Now you're just buttering me up." I shrug, and she smiles. "I don't mind."

I move in to kiss her at exactly the same time she grabs my wand and banishes the tray. She tastes like orange juice, which is much better than tasting like fried sausages, I suppose. And she giggles a little before she puts both hands behind my neck and pulls me toward her.

"Keep going," she whispers.

I let my head drop against hers and pretend to think for a second. "Hmmm." She looks so pretty up close like this. "She's poor."

Rose laughs and shakes her head. "No, she's not."

I just shrug. "She's not as rich as _you."_

"True." She smiles again, all teeth and sparkly eyes. And I kiss her again and dread the time very shortly that she'll have to leave. I really do want her to stay forever…

Oh, well. At least we've got a bit of time right now. And looking in her eyes, I know she, just like myself, intends to make damn good use of it.

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A/N: Ah, two happy chapters in a row! Oh, well, I think we might visit Hogwarts next… Please review!


	7. Lily, October 26th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 7

**LILY**

**October 26****th**

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Halloween.

It used to be my favorite holiday (after Christmas and my birthday, of course). I say used to because this year it's guaranteed to be total shit. Why? Well, because Eamon Fitzpatrick is making my life hell, and I'm sure that he's going to use the Halloween party to do even more damage. He's evil like that.

Stupid, evil, Irish, floppy-haired _prick._

If I _really _wanted to get back at him, I could do something crazy dramatic like tell him I'm pregnant or something equally as horrifying- just to watch him freak out and (hopefully) cry like a little girl. I won't do that, of course, because I have more class than that, and also I don't want to jinx myself or anything like that. It would be my luck that I really _would _end up pregnant, and then I'd have to kill myself or something.

And anyway, I already did that to Daniel Appleby last year, so Eamon would probably know I was lying.

I do want to make him suffer, though. And I want to make him suffer _a lot. _I wish I knew some sort of spell that would give him crabs or something awful like that, but then people might think he got them from me, so scratch that. I wish his penis would just fall off altogether and get eaten by Hagrid's dog Slop, but Slop deserves a bigger meal than that, so scratch that, too.

Ugh, I don't know _what _I want to do, but I can guarantee that when I think of it, Eamon Fitzpatrick is going to curse the day he ever decided to fuck with Lily Potter.

He dumped me. _He _dumped _me. _I don't get dumped. As a rule, _I _always do the dumping. So I don't know who the fuck he thinks he is, but he better damn well watch his back is all I've got to say. Stupid prick.

"Lily, are you ready?" Lydia Vanderblock is standing in the doorway of the bathroom watching me as I put the last finishing touches on my makeup. "We're going to miss breakfast."

"You probably shouldn't be eating it anyway," I tell her, placing the lid back onto the lipstick tube. "Your arse looks bigger."

Lydia gasps and immediately turns to the side to view her backside. She looks horrified at the prospect of having put on weight, and I try not to smile at her discomfort. I don't feel _too _bad, though, considering the fact that she attended a study group the night of my breakup with Eamon instead of fulfilling her duties and being there with the rest of my friends who listened to my story and offered a whole bevy of hateful names for Eamon. She claims that if she didn't attend that she would have failed the Arithmancy exam, but whatever, clearly she needs to sort out her priorities.

I brush past her and grab my bag from the foot of my bed. I haven't yet done my Charms homework, but I'm sure I'll find _someone's _to copy during first block free session. Lydia drags herself away from the mirror in the toilet and obediently follows me downstairs to the Gryffindor Common Room. Miranda and Meredith are waiting for us, of course, and they both smile identical perfect smiles when we arrive.

"Your hair looks gorgeous!" Miranda gushes at exactly the same moment that Meredith reaches for my bag and takes it from me. These girls are good and are training up quite well, if I do say so myself. They're Fifth Years, and they're both Gryffindors. Their father is Evan Goodlett, the owner of the poshest restaurant in Diagon Alley, Spivey. I've been there a few times; James goes constantly from what I see in the papers- it's sort of _the _place to be. So that definitely lends points to the twins, not to mention, of course, they worship me, which is always a plus as well.

We go downstairs to the Great Hall where there's a spot waiting for us. It's at the Gryffindor table, though several non-Gryffindors have staked it out and saved it. Emma, Ainsley, Bridget, Lucy, Abigail, and Joanna. Plus Lydia and the twins. Nine girls- all ready and willing to serve me. As a rule, I always keep my circle of friends at ten (including me), and I try to keep it as balanced as possible. Emma and Ainsley, Ravenclaw- Seventh and Sixth Year respectively. Bridget and Lucy, Slytherin- both Seventh Years. Abigail and Joanna, Hufflepuff- both Sixth Years. Lydia and the twins, Gryffindor- Lydia's a Seventh Year, and the twins are the youngest of our entire group. They count as one in my head, so the balance isn't entirely thrown off. Nine girls- all of whom come from some sort of respectable background, all of whom are pretty (though not _too _pretty), and all of whom are more than happy to follow my rules and play by _my _game- at least for the time being. If they grow tired of it, or if I grow tired of them, or if they do something that I deem unworthy… Well, easy come, easy go, right?

No one bothers us as we take our seats at the breakfast table, though several heads do turn in our direction to take in the view. I pretend not to notice, but, of course, I flip my hair lazily at exactly the right moment. I can practically _hear _the words in their heads, though no one is actually saying anything. They're all dying to know exactly what happened with Eamon. They all know we broke up, of course, it's been three days. But they all want to know if the rumors are true- did _he _really dump _me? _And if he did, what happened? What kinds of drugs was he smoking when he made _that _stupid decision? And, of course, the boys want to know if the breakup is serious and how long they'll need to wait before moving in for the kill. After all, I never stay on the market very long…

I love being me.

Down the table, I see a few of my roommates looking hatefully in my general direction. Jealous cows. They're all just mad because they're not down here with my friends- they'd all shit themselves for this chance, but the ones who've had the chance have all fucked it up somehow and the ones who haven't had the chance… well, there's a reason. Amanda Longbottom looks like maybe she wants to throw oatmeal at my head, but really, is it _my _fault if she's so utterly childish? She won't do anything, of course, because her Daddy Dearest is within viewing distance, and she wouldn't want to tarnish her image, now would she?

Ugh, she's the worst of them all. Just _so _petty and hateful. It's not my fault that she didn't turn out to be as pretty as me- very few people do after all. She shouldn't take her own insecurities out on someone who fared a bit (a _lot) _better in the looks department. The worst part is that Amanda used to be my best friend. I know, right? But I was young, so cut me a bit of slack, I didn't know any better, and plus, our parents _made _us be friends. She was my best friend all the way up until about midway through Fourth Year when I got my first boyfriend, and she got insanely jealous. She was so _mean _to me, so really, it's not even my fault. She was so jealous of me that she accused me of ditching her for a boy and being a horrible friend. I can't surround myself with that sort of negative attitude; it's not good for my skin. And anyway, it was all for the best really because it saved me from having to cut her from the group later when she got those really horrid bangs and didn't manage to loose all the baby fat from her face. I mean, honestly, with that round face and that awful hair, she looks like the Man in the Moon in Drag or something.

So, really, it was all for the best.

Breakfast is much the same as it always is- various fruits, cereal, eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and an array of juices. I choose orange juice and a plate of strawberries and kiwi. The rest of the girls follow the same sort of fashion and fill their plates modestly with their chosen fruits, except Lydia who just pours herself some water and refrains from eating anything and making her arse even fatter than it already is.

"Who's got first session free with me?" I ask, finishing the last bit of kiwi and carefully setting my fork down.

Lydia, Emma, and Bridget all raise their hands. I nod, pleased with this. Those three will suffice; after all, out of all my girls, they're the three with the most "experience," so they know about men and how to make them hurt. I think about telling the twins to skive off their Potions, but it's their OWL year, so I suppose classes are important. Still, though, learning how to make boys suffer is also a valuable lesson for my young friends. I don't, though, and I wave everyone else off to class until I'm left with just three of my Seventh Years.

I take them back to my dormitory, and we settle in cozily on Lydia's and my bed, which are right beside each other. No one else is around, even though all of the Seventh Year Gryffindors have got this session free. They know enough to stay away, I suppose- either that, or they're doing something completely lame like studying in the library.

"Eamon was staring at you all through breakfast," Emma announces, getting straight to the point. "He definitely still wants you."

I try not to look too pleased by this bit of information. Instead, I just turn my nose up and toss my shoulders. "Well, he should keep dreaming."

Bridget, though, shakes her head. "Last night, he told Emerson Marsden that you were mental. I heard them talking," she says this as if she's announcing that she's going to skive Charms. "He said you were obsessed with him."

No one says anything for a moment. Lydia and Emma both look positively terrified of my reaction, and for what it's worth, I'm sent for a loop for a second. I say nothing until I'm damn sure that my voice won't give me away. I keep my face as positively neutral as possible as I shake my head slowly.

"He's so pathetic," I say with an added twinge of sympathy. "It's awful that he has to make up lies just to have a reason to talk to his crush."

All the girls look at me, clearly confused, though their faces let me know right away that I've hit the jackpot. If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that gigantic lies are sometimes the best ammunition in the war.

"Who are you talking about?" Bridget asks slowly.

"Emerson, of course," I say, and then I bite my lip as if I've just let a huge secret slip.

Bridget, Emma, and Lydia all stare at me in shock for a second before the words finally sink in.

"Shut _up!" _Emma gasps with shocked laughter. "You can't be serious!"

"Oh, don't say anything," I say quickly, laying it on as thick as I can manage. "I'm pretty sure he wants to keep it a secret."

"You have _got _to tell us _everything," _Bridget demands, sitting up so straight that I'm surprised her back doesn't crack.

I shake my head, pretending to have already said too much. They all continue to stare at me expectantly, though, so finally I just sigh loudly and shake my head. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you. But please don't say anything." They all nod eagerly. "Well, Eamon told me once that he thinks Emerson is really hot. I mean, he was drunk when he said it, so I sort of just blew it off. But then…" I sigh for dramatic effect. "But then I saw him staring at him really weirdly during a Quidditch match… And it sort of freaked me out."

My friends hang onto my every word as if I'm quoting prophecies or scripture. They're completely entranced by the story and nearly creaming themselves with the potential gossip this tiny bit of information could spur. I show no emotion, of course, well, none other than pity. After all, isn't it sad that a boy would stoop _so _low just for a shot to get closer to the man who he loves…

"But really," I say sincerely, "Really don't say anything. Obviously it's not something he wants spread around. Not that there's anything wrong with being gay, of course," my friends immediately shake their heads in agreement (we're a very progressive and accepting group of girls), "but obviously his sexuality isn't something he's comfortable enough with yet to share."

They all swear not to say anything, which, of course, is a surefire bet that the story will be all around school by lunch. To say I'm quite chuffed at my own brilliance would be an understatement, but, of course, I don't let on. Mission accomplished. Eamon should know better than to dump me and _then _talk trash about me, especially right in front of my friends. Too bad I have to drag Emerson into it, too, but maybe I'll let him feel me up or something to prove that the love affair is one-sided. After all, he can't help it if one of his mates is lusting after him, can he?

I don't have a chance to copy my Charms homework, so I just make Lydia give me hers. She scowls just a tiny bit, but she doesn't say anything. It's not as if she can't afford to miss an assignment anyway; her grades are good enough as it is. We bid the other girls farewell and head down to our classroom. All the NEWT level classes used to be done together as a group with all the Houses, but they changed that last year when the classes started getting too full and the teachers started getting overwhelmed apparently. Now we're only grouped together in some of the less popular NEWT levels, like Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies. The more popular classes, like Charms and Transfiguration, are split up according to Houses, which is just fine with me at the moment because it'll give my story the opportunity to spread at a much larger level and a much quicker speed.

Lydia and I are the last to join the class, and when I glance at the wall, I see that we're nearly five minutes late. Professor Flitwick doesn't care, of course; in fact, he hardly notices. He's busy writing something on the board from his place on his stack of books. We slide into our usual seats at the back of the room, and I get Lydia's homework out and deftly use my wand to erase her name before grabbing a quill and filling in my own. She frowns but still says nothing.

"Psst!" I look up in annoyance to see who is hissing at me. It's Robert Creevey, and when I glare at him, he holds up a bit of parchment and slides it down the row to me. I roll my eyes. If he asks me out _one _more time, I swear I'll hex his balls off.

When I look down at my name, though, I recognize the writing, and it isn't Robert's. It's Hugo's. I unfold the note and wonder why he's killing trees to write something so mundane and uninformative.

_I need to talk to you._

I look down the aisle, and Hugo's looking back at me. I hold my hands up in both annoyance and question.

"_I need to talk to you," _he mouths as if I'm illiterate and didn't just read his ridiculous note. I thrust my hand forward to let him know that he's stating the obvious and that if he wants a response he's going to have to give me more than that. He's distracted for a second, though, when Amanda leans over and whispers something to him. He shakes his head and then looks back at me. He points toward the classroom door, and I roll my eyes in irritation.

Nonetheless, though, I raise my hand. "Professor Flitwick, can I go to the bathroom?" I ask, already bored with the conversation.

The tiny teacher doesn't even look up, just nods and waves his hand. "Yes, yes," he mumbles.

"Me, too, sir!" Hugo pipes up, and he doesn't wait for an answer before following me into the corridor.

When we're safely away from our classmates, I turn around and look at him expectantly. "What?" I snap.

"I need your help."

I can tell just by looking at him that he's seriously worked up over something and on the verge of having a freak out. He looks scared shitless and sort of like he might throw up on me. So help me God, if he does…

"What is it?" I ask again.

Now he looks like he might burst into tears, and for a second, I'm scared that something really terrible's happened and that someone's died or something. His voice shakes when he finally reveals his problem, though. "I think Maria's pregnant."

Maria? Maria Martinez? I look at him strangely, not having any kind of clue why he's so worked up over that.

"I think it's my baby…" he mumbles a second later.

My mouth falls open. Literally. I stare at him in total, complete shock for probably a full minute before I finally let out a, _"What?!" _in a high-pitched, horrified voice. "You had sex with _Maria Martinez?!"_

He immediately clamps a hand over my mouth and looks around panicked. "God, Lily!" he hisses angrily. "Shut up!"

I push his hand away and scowl at him, though I'm absolutely stunned into complete silence. I have no idea what to say or even where to begin. I just shake my head in total disbelief.

Finally when Hugo sees that I'm not going to say anything, he drops his tone back to the previous terrified one and says, "My parents are going to _kill _me…"

There it is. There's my voice. "Damn right they're going to fucking kill you," I bark at him. "God, how could you be so _stupid?"_

He scowls at me, and his eyes flash hatefully for a second. "Spare me the lecture, Lily," he sneers. "You're not exactly pure as snow."

"Well, I've never got myself knocked up, have I?" Suddenly my earlier thoughts about faking a pregnancy to upset Eamon don't seem so amusing.

"It wasn't like it was on purpose," he shoots back. "Obviously it was an accident."

"Was it an accident that you shagged her in the first place?" I ask incredulously. "God, Hugo, _Maria Martinez? _Gross!"

"It was one time, and that's not the point! The point is that I don't know what the fuck to do!"

I can't imagine how this happened. Hugo doesn't go around randomly screwing girls. He's too nice for that. Up until three minutes ago, I was positive that he'd only been with one girl in his entire life, and that ended last year. So this whole new Hugo who "accidentally" gets random girls pregnant is news to me. Not that we ever talk about that sort of thing, of course, so there's no telling honestly. We really don't talk that much at all unless we have to. He hangs out with Amanda and that jealous lot, so we don't exactly run in the same social circle.

I think over the situation in my head and then finally straighten up and decide to be logical. "Why do you think she's pregnant? Did she tell you that?"

He shakes his head. "No, but she's been running out of breakfast in a hurry every morning for the past three weeks. And today Amanda went after her, and she was throwing up in the first floor toilet."

Right. Running out of breakfast every day and throwing up. Could be morning sickness. Or… "Maybe she's bulimic?" Hugo just fixes me with a stupid sort of look, and I shake my head. "No, you're right. She's too fat to be bulimic."

"She's not _fat." _Hugo really does look like he could burst into tears at any second, and I have to admit that I _do _feel rather sorry for him. "Lily, _please," _he says desperately, "you've got to help me. Mum and Dad are going to be _furious…"_

He's right, of course. His parents will fly straight off the handle, and there's pretty much no use in trying to convince him of anything different because he'd know it was a lie. Hugo is the "good" one, and he doesn't really ever do anything to get into trouble. _Rose_ is the one who's spent her whole life in trouble, that's never been Hugo. His parents have never had to worry about him doing anything stupid or rebellious, so _this… _this will likely give them both heart attacks. And then his dad will try to kill him, and his mum'll hole herself up in her room and sob for days on end and wonder where the hell she went wrong before finally doing something really dramatic like resigning from office and putting Landon up for adoption so that she doesn't have the chance to screw up yet another kid.

I can see it all far too clearly…

"What am I supposed to do?" I ask, wondering what the hell he could honestly expect of me.

"Find out for me," he says immediately. "Find out if it's true and she really is pregnant."

I frown and cross my arms. "I don't want to talk to _Maria Martinez. _Can't you get Amanda to do it?"

But Hugo just shakes his head, still looking as hopelessly desperate as ever. "Amanda hasn't got the same sort of power that you do."

"Understatement of the century…"

"Lily."

"Okay, _fine," _I roll my eyes. "I'll find out for you. But you owe me, Hugo."

"Fine. What do you want?"

"I don't know yet, but when I think of it, you _better _do it." I narrow my eyes just so to let him know that I mean business. He doesn't seem intimidated.

"Right. Because I haven't done everything you've ever told me for the past, oh, seventeen years…"

I smile. "And look what a fine, upstanding citizen you are." I reach over and pat him on the shoulder. "Fucking Maria Martinez excepted, of course."

Hugo looks like he probably wants to punch me, but, of course, he doesn't because that would absolutely seal his fate when it comes to me doing my detective work and finding out whether he is, in fact, expecting a child. Oh, god, he might be expecting a child…

"We should go back to class," I say, suddenly freaked out.

Hugo nods. "Just don't tell anyone, okay?"

I shake my head. Obviously I'm not going to tell. Maybe we don't always get along, and we certainly have different tastes in the people we choose to hang around with… but we're still family. And that's important.

Later that day at lunch, I join my friends at our same spot, and Hugo goes off to join his friends. We don't talk anymore about his mini-crisis, and no one guesses anything. In fact, I'd forget about it myself if it weren't for the fact Maria Martinez keeps throwing herself into my line of sight. I'm not sure exactly _how _I'm supposed to find out what, if anything, lies in her womb, but I'll come up with something. I'm good at coming up with schemes. It's sort of my forte…

"Oh, my god, did you hear that Eamon Fitzpatrick sucked Emerson Marsden off in the Quidditch changing room last night?!"

I hear it in passing, but I can't help the little smile that crawls across my face.

See? They should all know better than to fuck with Lily Potter.

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A/N: Ohhhh, Lily's so evil! And I finally had fun writing her- figures! Another quick update, please review!


	8. James, November 6th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 8

**JAMES**

**November 6****th**

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Teddy and Victoire had The Fight at Sunday dinner.

Mum cooked and insisted on a family get together, which meant that she forced Al and me to come home and insisted that I bring Charlotte and Al bring someone should he so choose (yeah, right). She also forced Teddy and Victoire to come, which meant that we got to share the dinner table with the kiddies, and _that, _I'm sure you can imagine, is always a blast (if your definition of a blast is loud talking and snotty noses).

It was one of those snotty noses that spawned The Fight actually.

The Fight that started with Victoire telling him to get his stuff and move out of her house. And continued with Teddy telling her that he _owned _the house and that if somebody was going, it would be her. And ended with Mum grabbing the baby and telling them both to get out of _her_ house.

So, yeah, it was quite a lovely dinner.

It started normal enough. Charlotte and I were late, of course, and Mum gave me a lot of dirty looks while she finished setting the food out. Al didn't look completely thrilled to be there, and if I didn't know better, I'd say he had somewhere better to be. Teddy and Victoire were there with the girls, and they didn't particularly seem out of sorts. Dora was being insane like always- that child is absolutely _mental. _She was chasing the cat up and down the stairs and screaming at it to slow down as her hair flashed rapidly from pink to orange in excitement. Madeleine was much calmer, of course, because she's horribly shy compared to her older sister. She was sitting on Vic's lap and silently twisting her mother's hair between her own fingers. Charlotte, who had never actually met the kids, spent an annoying fifteen minutes straight oohing and ahhing over how beautiful they were, and I went on a hunt through the liquor cabinet trying to find something to get me through the evening.

Dinner started off fairly usual. It was pork roast with potatoes and stuffed squash. I love my mother's cooking, I won't lie. It's delicious. Charlotte, of course, chose only to eat the squash and picked just enough at her meat to make it look as if she was enjoying. Everyone else loved it, though, and Dora (who eats more than any other three year old child on the planet) was waiting rather impatiently for her second helping when she apparently got something up her nose and sneezed suddenly and loudly. All over the bread basket in front of her.

"_Dora Jolie! _Cover your mouth and say excuse me!_" _Teddy looked at her sternly, and truthfully, he _did _sound a bit hateful and annoyed. But still, the look Vic shot him was _way _more hateful.

"Don't yell at her!" she snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"I didn't _yell," _he bit back, his teeth clenched in what was obvious annoyance. "She needs to learn proper table manners."

"She_ sneezed," _Vic said, rolling her eyes. "She can't help it, she's _three!"_

"She can cover her mouth."

"And you can shut yours! I'm not having this conversation with you, just leave her alone."

"I've told you a million times not to undermine me in front of the kids!"

"Well, I've told you a million times not to spend the night in the pub, so I guess we're even," she sneered evilly.

Whoa.

The rest of the room was completely silent, and we all just sort of sat there awkwardly. No one said anything, and we all avoided each other's eyes and just studied the food in front of us.

Finally Teddy cleared his throat and folded his napkin over his plate. "I'm not going through this again," he said lowly, and his voice sounded almost daring. "We'll talk about this later." He got up and started to go somewhere (where, I don't know), but he didn't even make it to the dining room door before Victoire was shouting after him.

"I'm done talking about it! I talk and talk 'till I'm blue in the face, and it just goes in one ear and out the other with you!"

"Well, maybe I'd listen if you knew how to speak in a normal tone once in awhile instead of constantly screaming and nagging! You're driving me _mad!" _He spun around with a crazy wild look on his face, and Madeleine burst into tears. No one paid her any attention, though. Victoire and Teddy just stood there staring at each other, and I thought that maybe Vic was going to start crying. She didn't, though. She just stood there with a very determined sort of look on her face for a long moment, and then she shook her head.

"I'm so sick of you." She said it so calmly that it was almost scary.

At that point, I finally thought to look down the table to Dora. Maddie was still crying, but Dora was just looking at her parents with this sort of confused look on her face. She honestly looked quite pitiful.

Teddy rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. "If you're so fucking _sick _of me, then why don't you _do _something about it?!"

"Fine!" she snapped hatefully, her voice losing its eerie calm as quickly as it had got it. "You need to get your things and get out of my house."

"_Your _house?!" he scoffed and almost seemed amused. "I _bought _that house. _You're _the one who needs to get out."

And then Victoire completely lost it and let out some sort of strangled yelp before she grabbed the very same bread bowl that Dora sneezed over and hurled it straight at her husband's head. He ducked (lucky for him), and it smashed loudly against the wall behind before shattering all over the place. Charlotte jumped, Maddie screamed, and Mum jumped up and grabbed Victoire's arm to keep her from throwing anything else.

_"Victoire!" _she shouted, and she looked so angry that even _I _got a bit nervous. "Calm down!"

Vic obviously recognized the look on Mum's face because she immediately calmed herself and looked downright embarrassed. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Mum let go of her and shook her head. "Both of you need to get out of my house right now. I don't care where you go, but you're not doing this here!"

Victoire took in a deep breath, but she nodded nonetheless. However, when she stepped forward to lift Madeleine out of her chair, Mum stepped in front of her and grabbed the baby first.

"No!" she said sharply, swinging Maddie onto her hip. "You are not taking these babies anywhere, not with _that _attitude and that temper."

"But-"

"I said _go!" _She said it with that tone of finality, and Victoire and Teddy both knew there was absolutely no use whatsoever in arguing with her. They left together, though I've no idea at all where they might have gone.

After they left, though, everyone just sort of looked at each other in shock, as if no one was really quite sure _what _had just happened. Finally, though, Dora spoke up for the first time since her parents' argument began. Her voice was quiet and scared sounding, and it was impossible not to feel just a _little _sorry for her.

"Aunt Ginny?" she asked quietly, and her eyes barely even pulled up from the table.

"Yes, love?" Mum sat down beside her in the chair that Teddy had vacated and balanced Maddie on her knees.

And then Dora frowned a very sad sort of frown and said, "I'm sorry I didn't cover my mouth…"

The fact that Teddy and Victoire are both still alive after _that _speaks very highly of my mum's self-control.

She finally let them have custody of their kids again the next day when Teddy showed up calmly and apologized. Dora didn't want to go, though, so she's spent the better part of the last week curled up in Dad's lap "reading" him the newspaper. So the good news is that if she decides to stay, maybe Mum and Dad can learn from their other daughter and _not _make those same mistakes. The bad news, of course, is that I'm pretty sure Teddy and Victoire are over. As in, _completely _over.

And that sort of sucks.

When my parents decided to split up, we were all already teenagers and at school. I didn't care so much, and I'm not sure Al did, either. Lily, I think, had a pretty rough time with it, though, and she was almost fourteen years old. Dora's _barely _four_. _And Maddie's not even two yet. But I guess that's what happens when you get married too young…

And that's why I try to tell Charlotte when she starts hinting that we should stop by the jewelry store during our visit to Diagon Alley. Well, of course I don't say it in so many _words, _but I do keep bringing up Teddy and Victoire whenever she mentions it. Maybe eventually she'll get the hint.

"Think of how awful it's going to be for the girls to have to go through that so young," I say pointedly to Fred after Charlotte mentions yet _again _her desire to visit Fandley's Fine Jewelry. Fred is behind the desk that sits in the middle of his office for no other reason than show. He isn't working, of course, because he knows absolutely nothing about the numbers game or anything like that. He's good with the selling end of things, but when it comes down to the business end, he's got people to do it for him.

And because he's my number one best mate, he reads my unspoken meaning and knows exactly how to respond.

"Well, the probably should have waited awhile before they rushed into marriage. I mean, that's what happens when you're too young, isn't it?"

Charlotte rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed at the both of us. She's told me on more than one occasion that she doesn't "appreciate" the "childish behavior and antics" that I get up to around Fred. I guess she doesn't realize that I don't really _appreciate _much of anything about her other than her tits. Oh, well.

"I'm going to Madame Malkins," she announces huffily, standing up and grabbing her tiny clutch. She looks at me in a way that lets me know I'm supposed to get up and join her, but I'm quite good at playing stupid, so I just smile.

"Okay, have fun," I say sweetly.

She gives me a sort of murderous look that Fred smartly pretends to ignore as he stifles his laugh and looks away. I just continue to play dumb and give her a little wave as she sighs loudly and jerks her entire body around so quickly that it makes _my _neck hurt. When she's gone, Fred finally laughs, and I join him because really we're not that mature. And we don't pretend to be, either.

"You've got to get rid of her, mate," Fred says seriously, propping his feet up on the pointless desk and leaning back in his chair so far that I'm sure it might tip over at any moment.

"I try! But it's like every time I try to dump her, she starts taking off her clothes, and I get distracted…"

"She's not even that hot."

I just look at him.

"Okay, so she _is _that hot," he says honestly. "But she's definitely not worth it. _Way _too high maintenance."

High maintenance doesn't even _begin_ to cover it. But getting rid of girls who think they've got a chance of getting a ring or something like that out of it… well, that's a bit difficult. Anyway, it's not as if it _really _matters anyway because Charlotte is exactly the type of girl I need to be dating right now.

"It's crazy about Teddy and Vic, though, huh?" I ask, changing the subject back to a previous topic. "You should have seen her throw that bowl! Who knew she had an arm like _that?!"_

"And there's another girl who's nothing but high maintenance. And look how _that _ended up." He crosses his arms and nods his head pointedly at me as if he's just shown me some great revelation.

"Well, trust me, I'm not going to _marry _her."

"You keep avoiding the inevitable dump, and you'll wake up one morning with a hangover and a wedding ring, watch."

I roll my eyes and lean forward to run a hand through my hair. I start to tell him that he's nothing but insane and dramatic, but a loud crash from the front of the store sends both of us sitting straight up and looking toward the door.

"Shit," Fred mutters a second later. "They can't take care of _anything! _You coming?"

I shake my head. "Nah, I think I'm hiding."

Fred sighs and nods as he stands up and goes to investigate the crash. There's _always _some sort of crash at WWWs. Too many kids run around the store for the displays to be in perfect order, and it's inevitable that one or more displays crashes to the floor daily. Fred spends half his day either cleaning up the messes or ordering someone else to do it. I don't think he really minds that much, though, because parents always feel guilty when their kids make huge messes, so he usually ends up making a pretty good sale off of the perpetrator's parents' at least. I think he sometimes sets the displays up precariously on purpose, just _waiting _for some excited child to knock into them roughly.

Fred is smart like that. Sure, he doesn't always know everything about the business end of things, and like I said, he's shit at numbers, but he's smart when it comes to selling things. He's always been like that, though, and a lot of that probably comes from his having been _raised _in this store. Honestly, when we were kids, this is exactly where we both thought we'd be. We even used to talk about it and plan it out- he'd be in charge of the store, and I'd be playing Quidditch, and we'd both be really, really rich. And look at us now- exactly where we always knew we'd be.

Of course, there are a _few _differences. It was always Fred who said he'd grow up and marry a model. Just because he could, he used to say- because he'd be _famous. _I said I wouldn't have any girlfriends and especially no wives because girls were dumb and gross. And why would anyone even need a girl if they were getting paid to play Quidditch? How much better could life really get? I changed my mind about the girl thing somewhere around twelve years old, though, and obviously I don't think they're dumb and gross anymore- well, not most of them anyway. And Fred… Well, Fred certainly doesn't want to marry a model anymore- he doesn't want to marry _anyone. _He prefers one night stands with girls he picks up at the pub. Girlfriends, he says, are nothing but trouble, so it's best to use them and lose them. Maybe he's right.

At any rate, I know for sure that Charlotte needs to give up the whole engagement ring thing because otherwise, I'm probably going to strangle her. Well, I probably won't strangle her, but I _will _eventually snap and hurt her feelings. And I'm not _evil, _I don't like going around hurting girls for no reason… But damn, it's hard to get away from someone who's smothering you a little bit at a time. She just needs to take the fucking hint already and back off.

After all, it's not _my _fault she's delusional, is it?

The office door slams open then, and it nearly scares the shit out of me. Fred is standing in the doorway looking as if he's got the biggest news in the world to share. I don't know what he's on about, but I have a feeling that it probably isn't all that great.

"Um." He opens and closes his mouth a few times and then shakes his head. "Uh, maybe you ought to come out here for a second," he finally says.

I look at him like he's just as crazy as he's pretending to be, but his eyes flash something that shows he's actually pretty damn serious. "What is it?"

He shakes his head. "I just think there's somebody out here you probably want to see."

I can tell he's hiding something, and if he's setting me up, I'll murder him. Not really, of course, but it makes me feel better to at least pretend. I get up and follow him back out into the main area of the store. It's not _too _crowded, but there are definitely enough people around to see me and notice me, and for once, I'm not really up to being adored. So I do my best to slink around unnoticed behind my cousin who leads me over to the area around the counter. I don't know what, or rather _who, _he's got out here so important that I have to see right _now. _All I see is Rena, one of the salesgirls, talking to some blonde woman who is chewing on the corner of her nail in a really disturbingly familiar sort of way.

"I am going to fucking kill you," I say seriously, snapping back around to Fred and attempting the quickest getaway I can manage.

He laughs loudly, though, and blocks my exit. I suppose his laugh is loud enough to draw outside attention, too, because the next thing I hear is just as disturbingly familiar as the nail chewing.

"James?"

And there it is.

There _she _is. Kate Milton. The one and only.

I pretend to be surprised and relatively unphased by her sudden appearance, so I just turn around and give a fake look of shock. "Kate!" I give a little laugh that comes out as incredibly fake. "Wow… What are you doing here?"

Almost as if to answer my question, a little boy runs up, and she catches his hand effortlessly. Great. She's got a kid. Excellent… Of course, the boy looks to be about four years old… For a second, my heart stops beating, and I stare at the kid in shock.

"I brought my nephew to pick out a treat," she explains, letting the little boy spin underneath her arm.

"Nephew?" I let out the breath I didn't even know I was holding and look at her, confused. She's an only child, so I don't see how it's possible that she's got a nephew.

"He's my step-brother's. My mum got remarried," she answers my question immediately.

"Again?" Wow.

"Yeah," Kate laughs uneasily. "Lucky number seven, right?"

"Lucky number seven…" I repeat, and I'm sure I sound a bit dazed. But it's weird to see her. I haven't seen her literally since we left Hogwarts. She ran off to France, but I haven't heard anything at all about her since then. She still looks the same. Mostly. Her eyes are still sparkly blue, and her nails are still chewed down to the quick. The fluorescent varnish is gone now, though, and she's dressed pretty normally in jeans and a jumper- no more bright colors and tiny short skirts. There's one detail that jumps out at me, though. "Your hair's so long."

She nods and bites her lip for a quick second. "Yeah," she finally breezes. "My fiancé doesn't like it short."

Fiancé. There it is. I try again to keep my face as neutral as possible.

"Oh," I just say dumbly.

A long, uncomfortable silence falls over us, but her nephew breaks it when he finally stops spinning and stares at me intently. "You're James Potter," he finally announces, completely matter-of-factly.

I nod, trying still to act as perfectly normal as possible. "I am," I agree.

"_Wow!" _Her nephew immediately drops her hand and hurries over the remaining five feet to me. "You're the best Quidditch player in the world!"

This is an extreme exaggeration, of course, because I am nowhere close to being the best Quidditch player in the _world. _I may be extremely well-paid, but that's nothing to do with me ranking number one in the world or anything because that's just impossible. But I don't mind. Little kids often have a screwed sense of reality, so I just smile politely.

"Can I get your autograph?" he asks, totally awed.

"Joshua," Kate scolds quietly. "Don't bug him…"

"It's not a big deal," I shrug and reach for something to write on. I scribble him a quick message and autograph, and he grabs it happily and takes off back into the fun of the store.

"Josh, be careful!" Kate calls after him quickly. "Don't knock anything else over!"

Ah. So Joshua was the cause of the earlier crash. Not surprising.

"So," I say finally, after her nephew's run off, and Fred has decided to busy himself elsewhere.

"So," she agrees. And we just stare at each other for a second.

"How was France?" I ask lamely, thinking of the only known detail of hers that I can recall from post-Hogwarts.

"Oh, it's great," she says, nodding. _It's _great. Not it _was _great.

"You're still there?"

She shrugs. "Well, mostly," she says vaguely. "For now anyway. How's your family?"

I shrug, too. "They're good."

Kate nods, and then we just stare at each other some more. The bell over the front door tinkles loudly, though, as Charlotte comes prancing back inside. _Fan-fucking-tastic. _This will be awesome, I'm sure. I look for somewhere to hide, but, of course, there's nowhere. Maybe I should just Disapparate. But that would mean I'm scared of a couple of a girls, and that certainly wouldn't be good for my reputation.

Charlotte breezes right over to where we're standing, and I can tell from the look on her face that something's got up her arse in the wrong way. "I am _never _going back to that store!" she announces huffily. "That woman is _so _offensive! She handed me a skirt with a twenty-seven inch waist line! Do I look like I need twenty-seven inches?! My god, I'm not _obese!"_

The sad part is that she really, truly _is _offended. To her, that sort of "insult" is the worst thing anyone in the world could say to her. I just stare at her blankly until she gets pissed off and crosses her arms over her chest angrily.

"So you _agree _with her?" she demands. "You think I'm fat!"

"Of course I don't," I say, trying to placate her and also trying to appear as though I've still got _somewhat _of a hold over my own balls. Kate just stands there looking somewhere between amused and disgusted. Apparently Charlotte catches my brief eye drift because she looks over her shoulder.

"Do you need help?" she asks snottily. "Because we don't work here."

Kate just raises her eyebrows, and I can't tell if she's about to snap back or if she's about to burst into laughter. I step in before she can do either.

"Um, Charlotte, this is Kate. She graduated with me." I motion aimlessly toward her, but Kate breaks in with her own snide comeback.

"Well, I actually graduated," she says seriously. "James did his own thing."

I suck in a tight breath of air again and say nothing for a second. Apparently old grudges die hard. Kate looks strangely smug, and Charlotte still looks like she's got some awful smelling potion under her nose.

"Right," I say finally. "Kate, this is Charlotte."

Apparently just leaving it like that is a horrible sin because Charlotte's eyes go wide, and I've got a horrible feeling that I'm going to pay for it later.

'His _girlfriend," _she finishes for me, shooting me a quick glare before turning her gaze on Kate in what I suppose is supposed to be some sort of girl territorial mess. She stares her up and down, but Kate just looks back calmly.

"How lovely for you," she says, and apparently some old sarcastic ways die hard, too.

Charlotte doesn't miss the sarcasm, either, and I can tell there's about to be another crash out here. So I step in and put a stop to it before it can develop. "Well, we had better go," I say, looking around for Fred who has disappeared completely.

"Yes, we have _plans," _Charlotte says pointedly, though it's a complete lie. We haven't got any plans, and we won't, either. I don't say this, though, because I don't want to be hexed right in here in the middle of the shop.

"It was nice to see you," I say as emotionlessly as I can manage. "If you see Fred, tell him we took off."

Kate just smiles smugly and nods. "Oh, of course. See you. Nice to meet you, Charlene, was it?"

"Char_lotte." _She doesn't return the "nice to meet you" sentiment. Surprise, surprise.

I can't take it anymore, so I start heading for the door. Charlotte hurries after me and wraps herself _so _tightly around my arm that I very well may die from loss of blood circulation. I've got a feeling that my afternoon at home is going to be _very _interesting.

Taking a chance, I shoot a quick glance back over my shoulder to where Kate is still standing by the counter. She's still watching us with that same smug, amused sort of look.

And _fuck, _she's still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

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A/N: So…. Kate! Yes, I love her, so she had to make a reappearance. And James needs some shit in his life to bring him down a notch or two, and what better way than ghosts of the past… And as far as Teddy and Victoire go, well, sometimes that's the way it goes. Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you guys are awesome!!


	9. Kate, November 9th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 9

**KATE**

**November 9****th**

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I lied exactly three times Tuesday.

I lied when I said it was nice to meet that skinny bitch with no personality. I lied when I said I was still mostly living in France. And I lied when I said I had a fiancé.

It was not nice to meet that arrogant little bint. In fact, I would have much rather gone my entire life without ever laying eyes on Charlotte Deluse. It's not as if I was surprised by her appearance; after all, she's only _in _just about every Wizarding newspaper and every magazine printed in Europe. It's not like I don't know who she is and who she happens to be dating. It's not as if she tries to hide her relationship from the public eye. I guess I also technically lied when I called her Charlene because I knew perfectly well what her name was. But it made me feel a bit better to get some sort of dig in at her- no matter how small.

And I am not still mostly living in France. I am not living in France at all anymore, so that was a total and complete lie. I have no idea why I told it, either. It was one of those things that just sort of slips out. I went to France right after school and started working at the Paris branch of Gringotts. Why did I go to Paris? Well, why not? I was one of the few people who actually sat the NEWTs my year, so the job opportunities were out there big time for us. I really could have gone anywhere, and the banks always welcome international job-seekers. So it just seemed like a perfect fit. And Paris was nice, too; I liked it, and I liked my job. But two months ago Friday, I put in for a transfer to London, and last week I actually got it. So now I'm back.

_Why _did I put in for the transfer? Well, exactly two months and four days ago, my engagement was broken off. Technically speaking, I suppose, I was dumped. See, I _was _engaged. I was engaged for almost six months actually, and I was already well on my way to planning my dream wedding. Dress, invitations, even a date. But then I was dumped. He said I didn't _fit _with what his parents expect. I don't know exactly _what _they expect, but whatever it is, apparently it's not me. So just like that, I was out.

Truthfully, I wasn't all _that _broken up by the breakup. I guess I _thought _I was in love, but looking back, I think it was more that I _wanted _to be in love. Marc is nice and cute, and his family is pretty well off. There were some things that bothered me- he picked at little things I couldn't help, like my nail biting, he was always bugging me to get manicures. He didn't like my hair, either, said it wasn't feminine enough, so I eventually let it grow out. But my mother said it was a good match, and she kept pushing me toward the idea. I guess I finally got wrapped up in it as well. We dated for almost two years before he proposed. We even lived together. I suppose that's the main reason why I decided to pick up and leave the country altogether when he told me he didn't want to marry me after all. I haven't spoken to him since I gave him his ring back. He told me we could still be friends, but I'm not stupid enough to believe that. It was really a blessing in disguise, I suppose, because it made me realize that I wasn't ready for marriage anyway, especially not to someone I had any doubts whatsoever about. And truthfully, I _did _have a lot of doubts about Marc. He was nice enough, I suppose, but I didn't exactly feel fireworks or anything like that- none of the stuff that they say you're supposed to feel with _The One. _So I guess it wasn't meant to be. And maybe France itself wasn't meant to be. After all, my mother's here- and her new husband and his family. I actually like them, which, trust me, is a rarity when it comes to my step-families. And my step-brother, Michael, is just a few years older than me, so it's nice to have someone close to my age to relate to, and I love his wife Jessica and their son Joshua. So maybe London is exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Excepting, of course, the fact that James Potter also calls this fabulous little city home.

If you're wondering, I am completely one-hundred percent _over _James, and I have been for years. In fact, I never even think of him. Except, of course, when I start thinking about the lack of fireworks with Marc… Because if there's one thing James has always been good at, it's fireworks. And driving me positively _mad, _of course. But I'm over that. Have been for ages. Which is why I was able to speak to him normally on Tuesday when I ran into him.

Out of all the places in the world that Josh could have wanted to go, he _had _to choose Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. I should have known better than to take him there, but I didn't really figure the chances of James _happening _to be there would be that high. Of course, fate hates me, so I really shouldn't be surprised. In my defense, I didn't know that Fred ran the store now, and I figured that the chances of his uncle recognizing me were next to nothing. But, like I said, fate hates me. So yes, I ran into James. Big deal.

He still looks exactly the same, only with slightly more scruff around his chin. With a fresh shave, though, he'd still look eighteen years old. He still has that stupid, out of control hair, and I'm sure he still spends an hour each morning making it appear as though he hasn't so much as _touched _it with a comb. He still has those sleepy brown eyes that give him the permanent sort of bored look that has always hypnotized girls. He's still the same height and still a bit on the skinny side, though there's nothing about him that appears weak or, contrarily, intimidating.

He's still James.

That much is clear. I guess I already knew that, seeing as how it's all but impossible _not _to know every detail of his personal life, considering the fact that he throws it all over the place in front of the cameras. He's still arrogant. He's still stuck up. He's still manipulative. And he clearly _still _hasn't grown up.

But he's still too fucking cute for his own good.

I guess that's why I lied about the fiancé thing, though I didn't _technically _say that I was still engaged. I just led him to believe it, and he drew his own conclusions. So really I guess that's not entirely my fault. But still, I don't know why I did it. It was something else that flew out of my mouth before I could stop it. I guess I just wanted to prove to him that while he hadn't changed at all, I was growing up and moving on to bigger and better things. Even though I'm not really. But it still felt good to pretend.

But now I'm starting a _new _phase. A _new _chapter in my life. A _new _job. And Gringotts London isn't really all that different from Gringotts Paris. My job is pretty much the same, and I even actually get my own little office here, instead of having to share with Isabella LaRue like I did in Paris. Honestly, my job isn't all that important. Mostly it's a numbers thing where I keep track of deposits and withdraws from some of the larger accounts to make sure that there is no suspicious activity or anything like that. I _really _want to be a curse breaker, but so far I haven't had any luck at all in managing that. It seems as if _everyone _who works at Gringotts has aspirations of being a curse breaker, and frankly, there are only so many jobs, aren't there?

So for now, I try to be content with my little job and my little desk and try to make the best of the situation. And, of course, it's by absolute accident and a horrid strain of fate that I end up with James Potter's file across my desk on the second day of work. It looks just like all the other files that have piled up on my desk here and in Paris. It's not particularly surprising, either, seeing as how I only deal with the larger accounts, and I read all about his latest contract in the paper. To say he's doing well form himself would very much be an understatement. As pained as it makes me to admit it, he didn't suffer one bit for the stupid little stunt he pulled with our exams at the end of Seventh Year. He's by far the highest paid of all our classmates, and he isn't struggling by any means.

It sort of makes me want to vomit honestly.

But _fuck. _Who knew he had _this _much?! The numbers in his file don't even come _close _to what was listed in the papers… I don't know where the hell he got the rest of this money from, but I've never even _seen _this much money… And I work at a bank.

His latest large withdraw was a charge made to Bandor's Baubles and Bangles, a tiny jewelry shop on Diagon Alley that's known for having one of a kind pieces that are out of this world expensive. Apparently so, considering the fact that the charge was made in the amount of 13,500 Galleons. I have no idea what he bought, of course, but I assume it's something for that skinny little bint that he's dating. He probably bought her a diamond ring or something so that they can go sell their engagement photos for 50K or something ridiculous. So what? I don't care if they're engaged. He's bloody well free to marry whoever he wants; really, it's nothing to do with me, is it?

But isn't it just my luck that on the second day of my brand new job, I get this file and get the inevitable meeting that comes along with it? Whenever there's a charged purchase with _this _sort of total, the client has to come into the bank and sign the necessary legal documents that allow us to release the funds to the appropriate institution. I attend these meetings at least eight times a day, so there's never anything particularly interesting to look forward to. And while this _may _be interesting, it's not something I'm particularly looking forward to by any means. I think about seeing if I can switch with someone, but apparently I got stuck with this file on purpose. The other people in my department don't seem to care too much for James Potter- in fact, I believe the exact phrase was, "That spoiled little bastard has never worked a real day in his life and takes absolutely _nothing _seriously."

I should have held up a sign that read, "_Hello! Lost my virginity to him! Got my heart broken! And now I work at a bank! Please don't make me call him 'sir'!" _in response, but I wasn't sure how well that would go over. And anyway, I don't really like sharing my ever-so-brief history with James Potter with people who don't already know. When people find out, they usually ask me questions like, "And you were stupid enough to let that go?!" Obviously they don't know about his total and complete lack of maturity and seriousness- at least my coworkers seem to have somewhat of a grasp on it…

The meeting's at 1:30, and at 1:25, I start getting the paperwork in order. I have it all set up on my desk as I practice calming breathing techniques while waiting for his arrival. I don't know why I'm nervous. It's not as if I didn't just see him a few days ago unexpectedly. I guess I didn't have a chance to be nervous then, so I'm making up for it now. It's stupid really, considering the fact that I've known James since we were eleven years old… But I guess a lot can happen in four years, and it really is a long time in the big scheme of things. I don't know him anymore, and he doesn't know me. But still, I shouldn't be this nervous.

I also shouldn't have started getting the papers together at 1:25 because he's still a no show at 1:45. This isn't surprising, of course, and I suppose I should have known. He's never been on time for anything in his life. Maybe I thought those four years would change that, but obviously _that _was just wishful thinking…

Finally, at 2:16, there's a knock at my door, and one of the managers holds the door open for James who seems to be wearing some sort of ridiculous disguise comprised of dark sunglasses and a stupidly popped collar. He looks like a vampire trying to shield himself from the sunlight. Of course, the glasses come off, and his superior air ceases the second he spots me. In fact, the look on his face is _almost _amusing.

"Mr. Potter," the manager says dully, "this is Kate Milton. She just transferred here from Paris."

And then, for no reason whatsoever, James and I awkwardly shake hands, and he even mumbles, "Nice to meet you."

I don't know _why _we're pretending not to know each other, but I go along with it because… well, I don't know why. The manager doesn't seem too interested, though, and when he disappears, James drops the act. And drops my hand.

"I thought you were still _mostly _in France," he says at once.

Busted.

"I was," I say quickly. "Now I'm here. I got a transfer." I shrug as if it's no big deal.

"Your fiancé doesn't care that you moved to a different country?" He sits down in the chair opposite my desk and leans back as though he owns the place. To show that I am not at all intimidated, I sit down and lean back in my own chair.

"He isn't psychotic," I defend promptly, hating myself more with each little lie that comes out. "He knows I have a job."

James purses his lips and sniffs his nose up just a bit. "Where's your ring?" he asks finally, glancing at my empty hand. I was wondering how he didn't notice that the other day… Now, _shit._

"I don't wear it to work," I lie. "It's too easily caught on things." This isn't entirely untrue- or at least it didn't used to be when I actually had a ring. The damn thing _did _get caught on everything, and it _was _bothersome at work. So yeah, not _completely _a lie (just mostly).

"Oh, must be pretty big then?" I can tell that he's being sarcastic, so I just cross my arms and swing my hair over my shoulder.

"Big enough." When he says nothing, I decide to start asking the questions. "What about you? Where's the gigantic diamond you bought _Charlotte?"_

He just gawks at me, and then he sort of lets out a snort that's somewhere between laughter and shock. "Yeah, right," he finally mutters.

"Well, if it wasn't a ring, what could possibly have cost _this _much at the jewelry store?" I shove the charge receipt across the desk at him. He takes it, and I get the feeling that it's the first time he's seeing it. He doesn't seem too incredibly shocked, though.

"I don't know. She buys stuff all the time." He shrugs as if it's no big deal.

I stare at him in horror. "You just let her go out and spend thirteen _thousand _galleons of _your _money, and you don't even know what she bought?"

He shrugs again. "It's better than having to go _with _her, isn't it?"

I don't know what to say. I don't say anything for a minute, I just look at him, not knowing whether to be surprised, amused, or infuriated. Finally, I get enough thoughts together to shake my head. "You haven't changed at all, have you? Not even a little bit."

James shrugs yet again, and I get the feeling that it's his automatic reaction to _everything. _"Why should I?"

I laugh, a hard, jaded kind of laugh, and I know the tone behind it comes through easily. "Well, I guess you shouldn't," I say haughtily. "Not if being a self-centered prick suits you anyway."

James kind of purses his lips and then does that nose wrinkling thing again. A long beat passes, and then he skips subjects and says, "So, tell me about your fiancé. What's his name?"

I sort of narrow my eyes a little bit, suspicious of him and his intentions. Part of me wonders if he already knows it's a lie, but a bigger part of me wants to keep going just to spite him. "Marc," I say finally.

"_Maaaaarccc," _he repeats slowly, making the final consonant especially rough in what I suppose is supposed to be a poor imitation of a French accent. "Marc with a C, right?"

I nod.

"Of course," he says smugly. "How _French."_

"Do you have something against the French?" I ask seriously, my eyes widening just a bit in challenge.

James shrugs. "Nah. I've got an aunt who's French."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's a bitch."

My mouth drops open. "That's rude."

He shrugs again. I wonder if his shoulders ever get tired. "Well, she is. She knows it anyway, so it's not like it's a lie." He shoves a hand back through his dark red hair, and he _definitely _looks eighteen again. "She moved because she said all the men in France are gay."

"That is _not _true." God, he's such a… I can't even think of a word!

He holds up his hands in mock defense. "Hey, I'm just repeating what she said. I mean, she was raised there, she should know, shouldn't she?"

"All the men in France are not _gay," _I say hotly. "They just have better manners than you."

"What does Marc do?" he asks, completely ignoring my little jibe.

"He's a writer," I answer, crossing my arms in satisfaction.

"Is he rich?"

I roll my eyes. "Does it matter?"

"I bet he doesn't have _that." _James nods his head toward the file on my desk.

"That doesn't impress me," I retort sharply. "I don't care about your money, James."

"Maybe not," he tosses his head carelessly. Then he leans forward and rests his elbows on my desk. His voice lowers dangerously, and I almost get frightened. "But you care about other things."

Suddenly nervous all over again, I hurriedly wipe my palms on my lap and then ignore him altogether. "I have another appointment in five minutes. You were nearly an hour late, and it's thrown off my entire afternoon schedule." He doesn't seem to care, so I push the credit receipt back over to him. "I need you to sign this, so the sale can be authorized."

Without so much as glancing at it, he slops a signature down at the bottom and slides it back over to me. He's still staring at me, and I have to admit that it's making me a bit uncomfortable. I try my best to ignore him and start putting all of his paperwork back in order. He sits there and watches me instead of thanking me and leaving quietly like normal people would do.

I sort of want to reach across the table and slap the shit out of him for being such an arrogant bastard. His superiority act isn't attractive, and I don't know _how _he's made it this far without even _knowing _the definition of humbleness. He's just a dick. Plain and simple. God, what an arsehole!

There's another part of me, though, that wants to reach across the table and _kiss _the shit out of him. I hate myself for it, of course, but he's still _so _fucking hot. And a million memories are still far too fresh to convince myself that it wasn't really that good. Because it _was. _And I _hate _myself for wanting him. It's disgusting- _he's _disgusting. But he's still got it over me…

Finally, he stops staring at me long enough to stand up and crack his neck. I watch him, expecting him to leave. But he waits a second and says, "You should cut your hair. You don't look like yourself with it long."

I don't say anything. I just watch him as he finally leaves. The door clicks shut behind him, and my head drops forward onto the oak desk.

Fuck.

I am so _fucked._

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A/N: Kate's really back! Thanks for all the reviews, it means so much!!!


	10. Hugo, November 13th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 10

**HUGO  
November 13****th**

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

My sister has this rather annoying talent of making people believe things that are not true.

Now, I don't want to call her a liar, but I'm not really the smart one in the family, and my vocabulary isn't that of a walking thesaurus. So I'll just say it. She's a liar. She's not as bad as she used to be, though. When we were little, she verged on the line of pathological lying- she made things up just for the sake of having something to say. I think she lied so much that she lost sight of what was true and what was false. We got older, though, and now she doesn't really lie about stupid things so much, but she still manages to get falsities in there from time to time. Of course, I've known her my entire life, so I'm pretty good at spotting the lies and calling them out. Other people still fall for them, though.

Other people like my parents.

That's weird because they've known her even longer than I have, but I'm not really sure how much of it is them actually _believing _her and how much of it is them _choosing _not to hear the lies. They tend to handle her with kitten gloves quite a bit, mostly because she's been known to have fits in the past and go straight off the handle. She hasn't done that in awhile, though, and she actually isn't as easily snapped as she once was. Maybe she grew up, or maybe the thousands of galleons spent on therapy actually worked, or maybe she just fell in love… I don't know, but it's obvious that she isn't as completely mental as she once was. And that's good because it means you can actually believe some of the things that come out of her mouth.

But regardless, I, on the other hand, am a crap liar. I can't successfully tell a lie to save my life. Every time I've ever tried to tell a lie in my entire life, I've ended up getting caught and getting in trouble. To make matters even worse, sometimes Rose's lies have been _so _good that _I've_ got in trouble for telling the _truth. _It's not fair at all really, but whoever said life isn't fair was _definitely _telling the truth.

So I don't know what to do.

I don't know what kind of lie I can tell to get myself out of this one. I don't know _anything _I can do to get myself out of this one. How could I be so _stupid? _I am not ready for a baby. I don't _want _a baby. I don't even _want _Maria, much less a lifelong connection to her. So I don't know what I'm going to do.

I shouldn't have let it happen in the first place. I don't know what I was thinking even, but I guess a bit of alcohol goes a long way in making bad ideas seem good. I don't even _like _Maria, and I am definitely not that guy who gets with girls just for the hell of it. I don't think it's right, and that sort of crap reminds me too much of James. And James, rich and famous as he may be, is certainly not the person I view as a role model. So I don't know why I did it.

Maria is a nice girl. She's always been nice. She's a bit on the quiet side, and a lot of people don't really notice her, but she's nice and fairly pretty, just not exactly popular. She's the sort of girl that gets overshadowed very easily. There's nothing _spectacular _about her, so she gets lost in the mix of Lilys that roam the school. Not that there are that many Lilys, of course, because Lily has managed to turn into something _so _beautiful, it's rather ugly… But Lily holds the corner market on popularity, and she carefully picks out the girls she wants sitting with her on the royal court. Maria Martinez has never been on that court. But I don't care about that. In fact, _that's _the most appealing thing about Maria. I'm not exactly a fan of Lily's friends because most of them are as mean and stuck up as Lily- and that's not something I find particularly attractive.

But I've never been attracted to Maria, either, so that's why I'm not exactly sure _how _I ended up in this predicament. I was pissed, of course, which was stupid because I know enough to know that I'm not exactly _coherent _when I'm drunk. I really shouldn't drink at all because I'm shit when it comes to handling it and functioning, but regardless, I did it. And I had the same reaction that I always do (which isn't good). I'm still not exactly sure why I ended up in the Prefect's loo instead of just going to one of the ones in the Tower, but I did. And that's where I spotted Maria who was brushing her teeth at one of the sinks and humming a song I didn't recognize. And I said hi, and we chatted a bit. And somehow, and I'm still not exactly sure how, we ended up naked.

And that was that.

We didn't really say too much to each other after that, but we never really said too much to each other before, either. She didn't seem particularly upset by the fact that I didn't end up professing my love, and I was just too embarrassed to say much of anything. I'm not really all that experienced, so it was sort of awkward for me. I've really only had one real girlfriend, and since Danielle, I haven't particularly (and by particularly, I mean not at all) been with a lot of other girls. So it was weird, and I felt bad. It was just better for both of us if we both just pretended it didn't happen.

But then I started noticing her quick escapes from breakfast every morning. And when I finally confessed the entire story to Amanda, she got suspicious and followed her out one morning. Maria ran to the first floor loo, vomited for a good five minutes, then came out of the toilet and rinsed her mouth out, and then finally went on her way as though nothing had even happened. Amanda hid in one of the stalls and spied on her the whole time. Then she came back to breakfast and told me everything and said, "So I hope you're ready to be a dad."

Amanda has exactly been _supportive _during my little crisis. She's been here, of course, but she's not really being _nice _about it. I guess I don't blame her, especially after I got Lily involved. Amanda sort of hates Lily, and by sort of, I mean she thinks she's the most horrible person to ever walk the face of the planet. I don't really blame her, I guess. After all, Lily has been _really _mean to her in the past. The worst part is that they used to be best friends not too long ago. They were always really great friends, even back before Hogwarts. In fact, I used to think Amanda was really annoying when we were kids, and I only ever tolerated her because Lily thought she was so great. But then Fourth Year happened, and all that went flying out the window…

Lily tells a complete lie of how it happened. When her mum and dad asked why she didn't invite Amanda over that summer, she told them that Amanda said she didn't want to be her friend anymore. She made it seem as if Amanda got so jealous of her new boyfriend that she told Lily she didn't want anything to do with her if she wasn't going to devote 100% of her time to their friendship. She said that Amanda was really mean to her and that it really hurt her feelings. And the worst part was that her parents believed her and didn't even question it.

It didn't really happen like that at all, though.

Yes, Lily _did _get a boyfriend that year, but that's about as far as the truth of that story goes. Lily got a boyfriend and became completely _obsessed _with him. She might as well have stopped having a life altogether outside of Jacob Kissinger. She didn't talk to _anyone- _not to Amanda, not to me, not to anyone. Finally, one day Amanda got fed up and said something to her about. Lily went completely crazy and started yelling at her that Amanda was just jealous and that she had _always _been jealous of her. She accused Amanda of trying to be just like her and of being obsessed with her. She said the only reason she was ever nice to her in the first place was because her parents forced her to be and that she really just felt sorry for her. And then Amanda called her a stuck up bitch. And that was that.

They've been enemies ever since.

I feel bad for Amanda because Lily's got _so _much power that anything she says goes. Period. So when she decided that Amanda was a jealous wannabe, the entire school bought into it. Amanda pretends like she doesn't care, but I know she does. It bothers her that she hasn't got nearly as many friends as Lily, and it bothers her that people follow Lily's lead so easily and are sometimes mean to her. They aren't as mean as they _could _be, of course, but that's because Neville's always around, and no one is going to purposely get themselves in trouble for torturing a teacher's daughter. But regardless, Amanda likes to pretend that it doesn't matter. She's still got me, though. She's my best friend, and we've got a few other people who we hang around. I don't care that much because I hate being the center of attention, and I much prefer to be in the shadows than in the spotlight anyway. And no one's ever mean to me at least- they mostly just leave me alone and ignore me, which is just fine with me. Lily's never turned the whole school against me or anything like that, even though we aren't exactly as close as we once were- not by a long shot. But it's different for Amanda, and I feel bad for her.

But I didn't have any choice but to involve Lily.

Lily's the most powerful person in the entire school. She can get whatever she wants, and she can find out anything about anyone. So obviously she's the perfect person to find out if Maria actually _is _pregnant. I'd ask her myself, but I'm far too easily scared shitless for that. I'd probably start crying or something. If Rose was here, I'd get her to do it because she could find out, too, but she isn't here, of course. So Lily is really my only option. She won't tell, at least I don't think she will. She may not be my best mate or anything like that anymore, but I think she still has _some _level of loyalty. After all, I haven't ratted her out about anything she's done over the last few years, and trust me, if I really wanted to, I could get her grounded until she's forty. I never even told her parents what _really _happened with Amanda, even though honestly, I probably should have, considering Amanda is a lot nicer to me than Lily is… But still, Lily and I are family, and that counts for something, doesn't it?

I just don't know what I'm going to do if it turns out to be true and she actually is pregnant. I'm sure the media will have an absolute field day, which will depress my mother to no end. She tries harder than anything to make sure that family scandal stays out of the headlines, though sometimes it's easier said than done. We don't really have that much scandal these days, though, so it's getting better. Sometimes the papers still like to write about Rose, and occasionally there'll be a story about her and Scorpius. That's getting to be less and less, though, probably because Rose and Scorpius make absolutely no secret of their relationship and are very much out in the open and public about it. I guess it's also getting to be old news because it's obvious now that they aren't just shagging each other as some sort of rebellious stunt. They're in love, and anyone (my dad) who thinks otherwise is seriously deluding themselves. Yes, they get into fights a couple of times a year and "break up" for a few days, but I think that's mostly because it keeps things interesting for themselves. Rose is different around him than she is around anyone else- she's nicer and more caring and overall just _calmer _than she is any other time. And he's obsessed with her and worships her and has for years. I used to think Rose wouldn't like that sort of affection, but apparently I was wrong because she would do anything in the world for him. So I guess that sort of makes for boring news.

There isn't much other scandal for the papers to write about, either. Every once in awhile, they'll make up some drama that's supposedly happening between my parents, but it's never real. And if it _is _real, it's never serious. I guess that doesn't make for good news, either. My parents are actually really stable, which is a disappointment to journalists everywhere, I'm sure. Yes, they fight all the time about everything, but I'm pretty sure they've been doing that since the day they met. It doesn't _mean _anything. In fact, it'd be weird if they _didn't _argue. I've never known them to do anything else, so I'm not sure how appealing it would be if they were just sickeningly sweet to each other all the time. It would be strange for sure. I don't think my parents know _how _to talk to each other without snapping and finding _something _to argue about. I think that's probably due to the fact that they are the epitome of the phrase "opposites attract." I don't even get it myself, but apparently there's something there that drew them together in the first place and has kept them together all these years. But I guess a stable marriage makes for rather dull headlines.

So with the lack of huge drama that currently plagues my family, I'm quite positive that even the slightest hint of a teenage pregnancy would send the papers into a frenzy. I can see the headlines now, and they aren't good. My parents' reactions also won't be good. Dad will probably try to murder me, and I guess I can't blame him. Mum will probably just cry, which is really worse than attempted murder. They'll both be shocked, of course, because I'm not the one who is supposed to cause the drama. That's Rose. And before long, Landon, I'm sure. But I'm the one who just fades into the background and never does anything too particularly noteworthy. I don't do anything spectacular, but, at the same time, I don't really do anything disappointing, either. So turning them into grandparents before they're forty-five will definitely shock them. Just think… my kid will have an uncle who's six.

I just wish I knew already.

Lily is taking her damn sweet time finding out, and it's starting to wear thin on my nerves. She says it's difficult because it's not like she can just walk right up to Maria and ask her right out. And it's not, she reminds me pointedly, as if she's _friends _with any of the people Maria associates with. She says these things take time, and she'll find out soon enough. I just need to be patient for once. So she says.

Amanda doesn't seem to think so.

"She's going to fuck you over, you do know that, right?" she says one morning while we're waiting for Defense to start. Amanda doesn't even bother looking up from the mess of scribbles she's currently doodling inside her book.

"She's not going to fuck me over," I say back, keeping my voice low in an attempt to _not _draw unwanted attention this way. No one seems to notice, though, as everyone is busy setting up for class and chattering away with their mates.

Amanda rolls her eyes, I'm sure at what she considers my naivety. "She's too busy making up rumors about her ex-boyfriends to actually do anything _nice."_

Eamon Fitzpatrick's recent outing as a homosexual is still the school's hottest gossip, even though I and a few other people heavily suspect that Lily made the whole thing up to get back at him for dumping her. Still, no one's figured out how to exactly pin it on her. Everyone just blindly believes it, ignoring the fact that not one person in the school can attest to its validity.

"She said it's just taking awhile because she's trying to figure out the best way to find out without having to flat-out ask her."

"Well, maybe she _should _flat-out ask her."

"I don't want to embarrass her. Lily isn't exactly subtle about things, and she'd probably ask her in the middle of a crowded classroom or something."

Finally Amanda looks up and looks over at me as if I've lost my mind. "Lily isn't exactly _anything _besides a bitch. I don't know why you think you can trust her."

"She's my _cousin."_

"She's your cousin who doesn't speak to you unless she needs something and who treats you like some sort of dog she can order around."

I feel my cheeks heat up, and I look down at the desk in front of me. I guess Amanda doesn't realize that saying things like that doesn't exactly help raise my self-esteem. "She'll do it," I say quietly.

"Yeah, and then she'll probably tell your parents and get you in trouble."

She won't do that. I know her better than that. "I can trust her."

Amanda sneers at me for a second and then goes back to doodling.

Speak of the devil… Lily shows up then flanked by newest victim, Charles Hanover. He's in Ravenclaw and definitely not in this class, but he apparently doesn't care to be late to his own. Lily makes a big show of kissing him before he finally disappears. He better be careful, or else the entire school will probably hear that he's got three nipples or an inverted penis or something like that. I swear, I don't know why guys even try it with her… They always inevitably end up tortured and dumped, and then when one has the balls to dump _her, _he's suddenly the resident class gay. When Charles leaves, Lily drops unceremoniously into the empty chair beside Lydia. They immediately bend their heads together and start whispering about something.

"She's forced Lydia into an eating disorder, you do know that, right?" Amanda hisses at me a few seconds later. I've got no idea what she's talking about, so I just stare at her blankly. "She told her she was fat, and now Lydia's not eating _anything. _But yesterday she caved and ate dinner, and then she spent all last night throwing it up in the loo. The whole place smelled like regurgitated bangers and mash this morning."

The thought of this makes me sick to _my _stomach, and I can't help the grossed out look on my face. I don't want to believe it, either, but I know all too well that it's probably true. Lily accuses everyone of being fat, and Lydia's exactly the kind of girl who would take it to heart and start starving herself. The worst part is that there's nothing fat about Lydia at all; in fact, she's quite skinny, especially to be as tall as she is. But Lily is vindictive in that way. So I'm not surprised by Amanda's news.

I start to say something back, but Professor Panders shows up right on time. He's brand new this year, and so far, he's pretty much been shit. He doesn't seem to realize that we're Seventh Years and that we've already covered all the crap spells and theories he's teaching the younger kids. Even when we try to tell him that we already know all of that, he still insists on feeding it to us anyway. He says it never hurts to refresh. The problem, of course, is that _he _doesn't have to sit the NEWT in a few short months, so all the "refreshers" don't affect him. Whereas we'll all be fucked. I don't normally like to complain about stuff, but I actually wrote Mum and told her about it. She said she'd have it looked into, but so far, nothing has been done.

"Everyone take out your texts, and we'll start learning about boggarts."

"Professor, we did boggarts in _Third Year," _Evan says with a loud sigh. "They aren't even _in _our texts."

"Oh, pish-posh!" Panders says dismissively. He does a little hand wave that makes all of us groan inside. "There it is on page 216."

I turn my book to the appropriate page and look down to see if he's telling the truth. There, tucked in between four long, detailed paragraphs, is a single sentence: _"The theory has been tested on boggarts in the past, but little can be concluded from the results."_ That, _that _is why we're being forced to relearn Third Year material? This man is a complete idiot.

I give up on listening and start watching Amanda doodle in the margins. She draws all the time, though she rarely finishes anything. Mostly she just does random sketches in her texts when she's bored with the lectures. Occasionally she puts something more detailed down on parchment, but it's a rare occurrence. She's quite talented, too, and I think she should try and work on her art more. I bet she could maybe even be fairly successful if she worked at it enough. She doesn't like to hear those sort of things, though, and she always blushes and shrugs off the suggestion like it embarrasses her or something.

Panders keeps droning on and on about all the things boggarts do and where they're most likely to hide and all that shit. No one is listening to him. Half the people have tuned him out completely and are having their own private conversations. Lily is sleeping and not even attempting to hide it. Beside her, Lydia has her Potions book open and is doing her homework. This whole class is a complete waste of time.

Amanda's still drawing, so I keep watching her. She's sketching what appears to be some sort of sea monster all over the pages of her text. Apparently she's given up trying to stay in the margins. I don't blame her, since we obviously aren't going to actually _need _these books. We'll all fail the Defense NEWT all on our own without the help of the text.

"Stop watching me," she finally hisses, and her cheeks go a little pink.

"Sorry," I mumble back.

I'm getting restless now, and there's nothing to do. I've been like this a lot lately, though, mostly because I can't do anything at all except worry about whether or not Maria is pregnant. I need to know because I need to figure out what to do. I don't really know how many options I'll have if she _is, _but at least I can start figuring things out. Maybe I can write to Rose and ask her to help me come up with some sort of lie that might spare my life- Imperius or something… I dunno. _Something. _I just want an _answer._

I look back over to where Lily's slumped over her desk with her head down and her eyes shut. She certainly doesn't seem concerned at all. And she definitely is in no hurry to help me. Maybe Amanda's right. Maybe she _is _going to fuck me over.

Maybe I'm going to have to ask Maria myself.

Or maybe I'll just kill myself and save my parents the trouble.

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A/N: Poor Hugo, hasn't changed at all! Anyway, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who is reviewing! It definitely makes updating easier!


	11. Lily, November 16th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 11

**LILY**

**November 16****th**

----------------------------------------------------------------

Hugo is quickly diving headfirst into self-imposed mania.

He is driving me absolutely crazy, and I swear he's borderline suicidal. If he weren't be so super teenage angst poster child, I would take a bit more time and actually come up with something _good. _Apparently, though, I've already taken too long, and if I don't find out the truth soon enough, he's going to humiliate himself and walk straight up and ask the mummy of his potential child if she's knocked up. And I can't let that happen. Even if Hugo _does _have bad taste in the people he chooses to hang around (and sleep with apparently), I'm not going to let him embarrass himself like that.

So that's why I'm watching the little slag closely as breakfast drags on all around me.

It's difficult to stay focused, of course, because someone is bound to notice rather quickly that I'm preoccupied with the Hufflepuff table instead of the normal morning gossip that's buzzing around me. I purposely told Charles that we wouldn't be sitting together this morning because I don't need any unnecessary distractions. I'm too busy watching Maria Martinez pick glumly at a piece of bacon. Her cheeks look rather sallow, and she's a lot paler than usual. It's obvious that she's not feeling well.

If Hugo knows what he's talking about, then apparently she'll be running out of here at any second and heading for the loo. I just have to wait for it. I glance down the table and see both him and Amanda watching her, too. They seem to sense my gaze, though, because they both look over at me at exactly the same time. Amanda rolls her eyes and makes an annoyed face. Hugo ignores her and meets my eyes warily. We have a brief eye to eye conversation, but then we're both distracted when Amanda nudges him rather painfully in the ribs. As she does this, it draws both of our attention back over to the Hufflepuff table where Maria is pushing her plate away and grabbing her bag. There's still a half hour left in breakfast, so I doubt she's rushing off to Charms. I grab my own bag and stand up to follow her.

"Where are you going?" Lucy asks, drawing everyone else's attention to me as well.

"To the Tower," I lie smoothly. "I left my homework."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Lydia asks obediently, and I can see everyone else ready to volunteer as well.

But I just shake my head. "No, I'll be right back."

I hurry out of the Great Hall with one last secret glance back at Hugo who is watching me nervously. He looks like _he _might vomit. Poor kid.

I almost don't catch Maria as she disappears around the corner, but luckily I'm just in time to follow her from a short distance. Just as expected, she ducks into the first floor loo and lets the door slam shut behind her. I glance around carefully to make sure no one has come after me before I slide the door open and slip inside as quietly as possible.

There are six stalls in this particular bathroom, and from what I can tell, all but one are empty. Maria has taken up occupancy in the far last stall, and I stand silently by the door listening to the sound of her vomit. She sounds violently ill, and I have to force myself not to react. It won't do any of us any good if _I _get sick, too. But yes, she's definitely in there puking her brains out. I bend down just enough to peer through the bottom of the stalls and can see that she's crouched on her knees in front of the toilet. I straighten up quickly when I hear a lull in her puking, and now that she's done being sick, she finally flushes and stands up.

She has no idea that anyone else is in the room, and I can tell by the surprised look on her face when she slowly pushes open the door to her stall and walks out wiping her mouth.

"Oh, don't mind me," I tell her quickly, waving my hand dismissively.

She just looks at me, and I can practically _hear _her thoughts. She hates me, of course, because she, like so many other girls in this godforsaken school, is jealous. She thinks she's been caught red-handed and that I'm going to run around Hogwarts and tell all her secrets. Well… I have to _get _the secret first.

"You know you're doing it the hard way, don't you?" She stares at me blankly, so I prop myself up on one of the sinks and continue. "If you get a spoon or something and hold your tongue down, you can reach right back and touch that little dangly thing in the back of your throat. That's the easiest way to do. It doesn't even hurt, it's just automatic."

Maria stares at me. She looks tired and confused. Finally, she speaks. "What're you talking about?"

"Well, I could hear you," I say, trying to sound as sympathetic and yet as subtle as possible. "You were in there gagging. Obviously you were in pain. But gagging yourself, jamming your finger down your throat, it's just unnecessary, isn't it? I'm serious, if you just touch that little dangly thing, I don't know what it's called, but you know what I'm talking about, right? Well, if you just touch it, you just immediately vomit, without all the choking and the gagging. It's _much _better."

Maria looks at me, her eyes are heavy, and she doesn't seem the least bit amused. In fact, she kind of looks like she wants to hit me. I wish she'd try… Finally, she shakes her head. _"What?"_

I just smile at her through closed-lips and pretend to be sympathetic. "Don't be embarrassed. Loads of girls do it, you know?"

"Do _what?"_

"Make themselves sick after eating." I shrug as if it's no big deal.

"You think I'm bulimic?" she asks dully.

I smile at her again. "It's okay, Maria. I won't tell. And for the record, you look amazing." Lie. "I can totally tell that you're losing some of that extra poundage." Lie again.

She glares at me, and I try not to look too amused. This is sort of fun actually.

"I'm not bulimic," she says firmly, and she goes over to one of the other sinks to wash up.

"Oh," I pretend to look alarmed. "You sounded so ill! Should I go get the nurse?" I slide off the sink as I pretend to go get help for her.

"No!" she says quickly, turning around, clearly panicked. "No, I'm fine."

"Well, what's wrong?" I shake my head, playing dumb. "You don't just throw up for no reason. Not unless you _want _to, of course. Or…" My voice trails off, and I put all my best acting skills to work. "Maria, you're not…" I look at her with wide eyes, and she looks back at me with a look of complete panic and desperation on her face. Bingo. "Are you?"

Her eyes immediately start watering. Oh, _wonderful. _Now she's going to fucking cry. Hugo owes me _big _time.

"Oh, my god…" I say this as both part of the drama and also with a bit of seriousness. It hits me suddenly that if she really _is _pregnant that my cousin is about to be fucked. _Big _time. I stare at her, trying to find something on her face that says it isn't true, but there's nothing there. It's true.

"Please don't say anything," she begs a second later, and she seems completely desperate. "_Please. _No one knows…"

"Shouldn't you, I don't know, tell the _father?" _I can't help the snappish tone. It comes out automatic. Maria looks embarrassed and even more scared now, and she eyes me really sharply as if she's checking to see if _I _know anything. Finally, she looks away. "I didn't even know you had a boyfriend," I prod, cutting back on the snappiness just a tad.

"He's not my boyfriend," she mumbles.

"Then who is it?" I demand. Now I'm being serious.

She looks at me, and her eyes are still slightly wet. She doesn't trust me at all, and she absolutely shouldn't. But this is my cousin, damnit, she better admit it.

"It's no one," she finally whispers. "It doesn't matter. I don't even know what I'm going to do."

"_What?!" _Oh, hell no. "You can't be serious. You can't just… _decide _something like that and not tell him!"

"It's none of your business!" she snaps back, and now she looks more angry than desperate.

"It is so my fucking business."

"Why?" she demands, and she stares me down hard, sort of as if she's trying to intimidate me. It's not going to work, though, because I know exactly what she's doing. She's trying to see if _I _know. She wants me to come out and say it, and I won't. I just stare her back down equally as hard.

"Tell him," I say firmly. And I mean it.

Maria glares at me and then apparently decides it isn't worth it. She knows she's already screwed herself, so she just slings her bag over her shoulder and shoves past me in a terrible hurry to get out of there. I watch her reflection in the mirror as she disappears through the door and back out into the corridor. I don't know what to think or really what to do. It's ridiculous how this suddenly turned real all of a sudden.

And it's going to turn into a complete disaster…

Without thinking about it anymore, I make my own way out of the bathroom and back into the hallway. It's crowded now with students as everyone rushes off to their first class of the morning. I've got Potions, and the dungeons might as well be a million miles away. I walk with a steady pace- not too fast and not too slow. I ignore anyone who tries to engage my attention with a wave, a smile, or even a hello. I don't have time for anyone else right now. I've got something to take care of, and first things first, it's a priority.

Most of my classmates are already down there as I walk briskly and steadily down the stairs. The chill of the air is nearly immediate, but I hardly notice it. Lydia looks at me confused as she chats with Michael Dawner. I suddenly remember that I promised to be right back when I left the breakfast table. That seems like a million years ago, and it was really just a few minutes. I ignore her and everyone else. Hugo and Amanda are standing off by themselves on the other side of the downstairs corridor. They see me coming, and neither one makes any sort of movement as I approach them. When I finally make it over, I stop in front of them and put my hands on my hips determinedly. There's no point in beating around the bush.

"She's pregnant."

Hugo says nothing. He just slumps back against the wall and looks down at the ground. I wait for him to have _some _kind of reaction, but there's nothing. His face shows no emotion, and aside from going a bit paler, it doesn't change at all. I stare at him, waiting for _something, _and it never happens.

"Did you hear me?" I demand, narrowing my eyes at him. "She is _pregnant."_

"Shh!" Amanda hisses at me, looking behind me to where I know people are staring. They're too far away to hear the conversation, but I know they're glued to the scene eagerly. I don't care.

I ignore Amanda and continue to speak directly to Hugo. "What the fuck are you going to _do? _God, how could you be such an _idiot?!"_

"Shut _up, _Lily," Amanda snaps hatefully, and when I look at her, she's glaring at me in an even worse way than usual. It's a pretty common look from her, but right now, she really, truly looks like she hates me.

And the feeling is mutual.

"Don't tell me to shut up," I snap back. "This hasn't got anything to do with you!"

"It hasn't got anything to do with _you, _either!"

"I'm not even talking to you! I'm trying to talk to my _cousin_!" I specifically word it that way to remind her who has more at stake where Hugo's concerned.

"You're being a _bitch," _she says firmly. "Leave him alone."

"Call me a bitch again, and I swear it'll be the last thing you ever say." I narrow my eyes at her daringly, but she's never been one to back down from a dare.

"_Bitch_."

She says it promptly and pointedly, and she raises her eyebrows, daring me to do something. She knows I won't, of course, because I'm not about to be expelled over someone as minute and trivial as Amanda Longbottom. Still, though, I have to ball my fingers into fists to keep from reaching out and yanking that stupid fringe off her scalp. She's lucky that I have _way _more class than that.

"Your parents are going _freak," _I say, speaking to Hugo once again and ignoring the nuisance beside him.

He looks maybe catatonic or something. He still shows no sign of even hearing me, much less of giving a response. Amanda rubs him gently on the back and coddles him like an infant.

"They'll support you," she assures him, and it's nearly laughable how untrue one statement can be. "It'll be okay, Hugo," she says quietly.

"No, it won't," I say honestly, refusing to sugarcoat anything for him. "They're going to _die. _And then they'll kill _you."_

"No, they won't," she argues, more to me now than to him.

"You don't even know them!" I snap, and she rolls her eyes hatefully.

"I've known them my whole _life."_

"Well, they're _our _family," I hiss, motioning between Hugo and myself. "And as much as you want to believe otherwise, _you're _not a part of that."

Amanda opens her mouth to say something else, but she's cut off by Hugo who speaks up for the first time.

"Just shut up, okay?" he says bitterly, looking up and past both of us at the wall behind us. "Both of you. God."

He doesn't say anything else as he moves between us and heads for the classroom, which is now open. Our classmates are still looking on curiously, wondering what's going on. I suddenly want to hex all of them. None more than Amanda, though.

"You stay the hell out of this," I tell her firmly.

"_You," _she counters evenly, "_go _to hell."

And then she actually flips her hair and walks off at an annoyingly even pace after Hugo.

I swear. I _swear _I'm going to kill her

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A/N: So…. Sorry this was so short, but I didn't have anything else for it. Next chapter shouldn't be long coming. Thanks for reading!!


	12. Weasley Household, November 18th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 12

**WEASLEY HOUSEHOLD**

**November 18****th**

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_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I thought a long time about whether or not I should write this. Part of me is scared to write it because I know how disappointed you'll both be. Another part of me, though, knows that it's better if you hear it from me instead of from someone else. I want you to know, too, that I'm sorry for all the problems this will cause, and I never, ever meant for any of it to happen. So, here goes._

_There's this girl at school, Maria Martinez. I don't really know her all that well, but from what I do know, she's nice and friendly and seems like a good person. A couple of months ago, I made a really huge mistaken and did something I'm not proud of. Now Maria is pregnant, and I'm fairly certain that the baby is mine. She hasn't told anyone yet, but it's only a matter of time before the news gets out. Once it does, I know it's going to cause a lot of trouble, and I'm really sorry for any difficulties this might cause with the press. I just wanted to make sure that you knew from me before it ends up in the paper or something._

_I know how disappointed you both are, and again, I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, and I certainly didn't plan on it. I made a really stupid mistake, and I don't have anyone to blame for myself. However, what's done is done, and I want to take care of my responsibilities. I know that's what you expect of me as well, and I hope that you'll eventually be able to forgive me and accept what is happening. If you don't, I'll understand. _

_I hope to hear back from you soon, but I understand if you don't have anything to say to me. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to make it up. Again, I really am sorry._

_Love,_

_Hugo_

The letter arrived at exactly 8:56 PM.

Ron knew this because he looked at the clock on his way downstairs from putting Landon to bed. The owl was waiting patiently at the window when he returned to the sitting room, and he let it in, immediately recognizing the owl Hugo received for his twelfth birthday.

He expected another run of the mill letter. Hugo was a faithful writer, but he rarely seemed to have much drama going on. Most of his letters were rather vague and simple with stories of class and a few mentions of his friends.

This one, however, was anything but run of the mill.

He didn't react at first, mostly because he had no idea _how _to react. He didn't even know how to _believe _the words written in front of him. He had dreaded this particular type of letter for years, but in his mind, it had never come from Hugo. It was a letter he feared more than he cared to admit, one that linked his only daughter forever to family he loathed most in the world. _That _was the letter he dreaded- expected even. After all, he knew it was only a matter of time…

But not this.

He went through several different emotions in a very short period of time, but when his wife arrived home at a quarter of ten, he was stuck on repressed anger. She knew immediately, of course, the second she saw him that something wasn't right.

"What's wrong?"

It was a simple question, so he gave her a simple answer.

"Your _child."_

He had a habit of saying it that way whenever something bad happened. _Your _child or _your _son or _your _daughter. She didn't like to admit it, but she had a tendency to do the same. It was easier when things were bad to project the problem onto someone else. It wasn't always the mature way of handling things, but they were both human. So she ignored it and sighed instead.

"What did he do? Is he already asleep?" Landon was a handful at his best… On days when he decided to be difficult, it was more than a bit easy to become frustrated and angry. He was a smart child, but he wasn't the easiest to deal with. Not by a long shot.

She was surprised, though, when Ron shook his head darkly. "Not _that _child."

"You heard from Rose?" She tried not to be too alarmed, but she could tell by the look on his face that something bad was happening. "Is she okay? What's wrong?" Rose wasn't in the habit of keeping in touch too regularly, and while Hermione tried not to think about it too much, she was actually extremely worried.

"Not that one, either," Ron muttered bitterly.

"_Hugo?"_

He looked at her with a look _she _normally reserved for _him. _"Good use of the power of deduction, Hermione. I'm glad to see all those brains go to such good use."

She ignored him, choosing to do so for the sake of both their sanity. She could tell something was wrong, and he knew by the worried look on her face that she was scared.

"What happened to him?" she asked quietly, and he said nothing in return, just dully held up the piece of parchment that was still wound tightly in his fist.

She read the letter silently, taking in each word and attempting to process it. None of it made sense. Not really. Not at _all. _Not _Hugo._

Hugo, out of all her children, was the absolute last one she expected to be in trouble. While Landon wasn't at school yet, she fully anticipated the letters she would likely receive daily and the conferences that she would have to attend. Rose was in and out of trouble continuously from the second she was born, and it certainly didn't change once she left for Hogwarts. But Hugo… Hugo never really got into trouble- not really at home and certainly not at school.

So she couldn't believe that he could be in _this _sort of trouble…

"Can you _believe _this?!"

She jumped at the question and finally looked up from the letter, which she had read three times by then. She still didn't believe it.

"How could this happen?" she asked dully, letting herself drop into the chair opposite of him.

"What do you mean _how _could this happen? This little girl probably did it on purpose!"

She shook her head. "You can't be serious. Why would anyone do this on _purpose?"_

He didn't understand her sometimes. How could she be so smart and yet so naïve at the same time? That was one of her biggest flaws as far as he was concerned- she always insisted on seeing the best in people, even when they didn't deserve it.

"_Why _would she do it?! Do you have any idea what she stands to _gain _from this?"

"Oh, come off it." She rolled her eyes.

"She probably thinks we'll pay her off or something!"

She looked at him seriously. A million thoughts were running through her head, but all she could focus on was the fact that this was going to ruin her son's life. He was just a kid himself!

"Wouldn't we?" she asked, her voice dropping several notches.

He stared at her unblinking. He tried to read her expression, but it was nearly impossible. He'd never seen it before, and he hadn't seen her look _this _genuinely scared in years. And he couldn't even fathom the fact that she might be serious.

"Stop it," he said dismissively.

But she _was _serious. A dull ache settled at the pit of her stomach, and she stared blankly at the air in front of her. "This will ruin his life," she said seriously.

But Ron shrugged and started spewing all the anger he'd been trying to keep bottled inside. "Well, maybe it'll teach him a lesson! It's his own damn fault for being so stupid!"

"He's _not _stupid," she snapped back immediately. Though she knew he didn't mean it that way, she'd always been extremely sensitive to anyone calling any of her children stupid- especially Hugo. Hugo, she felt, often seemed to get the short end of the stick in all sorts of different situations. School was certainly one of those situations. He had never been as naturally intelligent as Rose. Rose was sometimes _too _smart for her own good, and she'd grasped concepts and lessons far beyond her age at an incredible pace as a child. Hugo, on the other hand, was perfectly average when it came to intelligence. As a child, he developed at a very normal and average pace, and he picked up new things at the same very normal and average pace. He was stupid by no means, but he had to work at each and every thing that he accomplished. He could make good grades, but it was difficult for him, and he really had to put forth an effort, whereas Rose breezed through school as easily as if she were sleeping. This would be bad enough, but things were made even worse when it became abundantly clear that Landon, too, was going to be somewhat of a prodigy. As the middle child, she often feared that Hugo was lost in the shuffle, so she tended to be quite sensitive about harsh words toward him.

Ron, however, did not care at all to use harsh words, and his face was turning redder by the second. "If he's not stupid, then explain _that!" _He motioned wildly toward the parchment in her hand.

She drew in a breath, still trying to process all of the information just thrown at her. "He made a mistake," she said quietly. "Mistakes happen all the time…"

"A mistake caused by _stupidity," _he growled. "Those mistakes don't happen to people with a little bit of _responsibility."_

She didn't say anything for a long moment, just sort of glared at him. She was torn between being devastated and extremely offended. Finally, she got her composure together and raised her eyebrows daringly. "Oh, really? Did _you _want three children? Because I don't seem to remember that being part of the plan."

He glared at her because he knew she was right. Three children were never the plan. The plan was two- right from the start. They'd been on the same page with that from the very first time they ever discussed a family. Two. One boy, one girl. And that was it. There was never supposed to be a three. Especially not when they were closing in on forty. But what could he say? He wasn't going to admit that she was right- that was against his religion.

"Well, we weren't seventeen, either, were we?" he shot back, raising his own eyebrows in some sort of challenge. He wasn't sure what that was supposed to accomplish, but it made him feel a bit better.

"We very well could have been," she said seriously, and he couldn't help the sarcastic little snort that immediately came out of him.

"Doubtful," he rolled his eyes slightly, "considering you spent most of seventeen hating me for one reason or another."

She shook her head, ignoring him altogether. She was not going to have an argument with him about something that happened when they were teenagers. Not when there was an impending crisis on their hands. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't do anything other than shake her head.

"What are we going to do?"

"_We're _not going to do anything," he answered her sharply. "He got himself into this mess, now he's going to take care of it."

"He's our _child," _she shot back incredulously.

"Who apparently thinks he's grown enough to take care of a child of his own," he finished easily.

"I'm not going to let his life be ruined because of this." She looked back down at the letter and felt her heart breaking as she skimmed the words. "I won't this ruin him…"

Ron could hardly believe she was even hearing the words that were coming out of her mouth. He'd never heard her talk like this before, and he certainly would never have expected her to be making such ridiculous suggestions.

"So, what exactly do you think we're going to do?" he asked pointedly, refusing to humor her. "Pay the girl off to disappear? Or pay her off to get rid of it? Or pay her off to keep her mouth shut? I mean, what do you _honestly _think is going to happen?"

She didn't know, and she told him so. But she was damned if she was going to let one mistake ruin her son's entire future and his whole life. He was _her _baby, and she wasn't going to let him screw his life up. Not if she could help it anyway.

"I don't know what we're going to do," she admitted quietly. "But we're going to take care of it."

"You're mental." He shook his head in disbelief. "Do you even hear what you're saying? And who is this girl anyway? I've never even heard of her."

Maria Martinez. Hermione had never heard of her, either. She didn't know anything about her, and she didn't particularly care to find out. The less she knew about her, the better. Part of her wondered if perhaps Ron was right. If maybe this girl _did _do it on purpose… She hated to think that anyone could be so evil, but she supposed in a way that he was right- the girl _would _have quite a bit to gain…

"I'm going to call Neville," she said, standing up and folding the letter in her hands. "I want to know what he thinks of her."

"Hermione, it's late." Ron fell back into his chair. "And maybe Hugo doesn't want anyone to know."

"Well, the entire world is going to know soon if we don't do something," she said harshly. "And five seconds ago, you didn't care about Hugo at all!"

This angered him, and he looked up at her fiercely. He could tell that she was apparently having some sort of slow-progressing mental breakdown, but that didn't give her the right to go around spewing lies and saying things that had absolutely no bearing in truth whatsoever.

"Just because I expect him to take responsibility for his actions does not mean I don't _care _about him, Hermione. Just because _you _want to baby him for his entire life and fix every mistake he ever makes doesn't mean you care anymore than I do."

"But he hasn't _made _any mistakes!" she said frantically. "That's my entire _point! _He's never done anything wrong in his whole life, and then the one time he messes up, his entire future gets ruined. It isn't fair!"

"Well, _life _isn't fair. And maybe that's a lesson he needs to learn."

Hermione stared at him, stunned that he could be so cold and unfeeling when it came to their child's _future. _Part of her wanted to hate him a little bit for being so unforgiving where Hugo was concerned when he'd been willing to overlook any number of things that Rose had done in her lifetime. Rose could have _killed _someone, and he would have gone out of his way to cover it up and protect her. But he wouldn't do the same for Hugo.

"I'm going to call Neville," she repeated slowly, her voice as level and calm as she could physically make it.

She left then, and he watched her go, fuming inside that she was so willing to ignore the stupidity of her son and right all of his wrongs. She wasn't nearly as lenient with Rose, and any time Rose so much as stepped out of line, Hermione was there telling her to straighten up and to stop acting out. But with Hugo, she could simply look the other way and pretend it didn't happen. It wasn't fair.

But he wasn't going to let her do it.

This was Hugo's fault, and _Hugo _was going to deal with it.

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A/N: Wellll…. So that was random! But it's been too long since I've written Ron/Hermione (all the way back in Lost, I think!), so I wanted to throw in a 3rd person POV for this. Please review, let me know if you hated it or if you loved it or if maybe you want to see more random bits tossed in from time to time. Love you all!!!


	13. Rose, December 1st

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 13

**ROSE**

**December 1****st**

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So, Mum told me about Hugo's little "accident."

She honestly called it that. An _accident. _Like it's possible to just _accidentally _shag someone. She is ridiculous. If _I _was pregnant, she would shout at me that I was irresponsible and that now I was going to have to deal with. She certainly wouldn't say, _"Oh, poor Rosie, it was just an accident. Don't worry, I'll take care of it." _Not even close.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, though, seeing as how it's been that way for as long as I can remember. _I'm _the one who makes all the mistakes, and Hugo's the one who can do no wrong. We may as well have shirts made that say "Good Child"/"Bad Child." At least Dad seems to be having somewhat of a normal reaction to Hugo's idiocy. Not that it matters, of course, because we all know that Mum's going to get whatever she wants- she has a tendency to overrule everyone else.

And _Maria Martinez_?

Mum wants to know what I know about her. Apparently she is suspicious that this isn't a total accident on Maria's end, though I told her I couldn't imagine in a million years that Maria would purposely get herself into this situation. I don't know her too well, seeing as how she's two years younger than me and in Hufflepuff, but from what _do _know about her, she isn't the type of girl who would do something like that intentionally. She's… sort of odd actually. Shy and really reserved. I wouldn't even guess that she was _having _sex, much less with my little brother…

And when did _Hugo _start having sex?

I suppose he did go out with Danielle for awhile, but she's such a tightwad, I didn't think they would be shagging… Not that I talk to him about that or anything because that would be _too _weird. But still. Hugo. And Maria Martinez. I'm sure that if you were to go 'round Hogwarts and take a survey of the two people most likely to end up with a teenage pregnancy, neither of them would even make the Top 100.

And that's what I told Mum.

She swore me to secrecy about it and told me not to tell anyone, which basically means don't tell my grandparents. Not that I talk to _them _a whole lot, either, but if I did, I wouldn't ever think to let it slip that Hugo's going to be a daddy. Grandmum would probably have a heart attack and die. I wrote Al and asked him if he knew, though. One, because I mostly tell him everything, and two, because I'm sure his parents have already been well-informed and sworn to secrecy, too. He hasn't written back, but sometimes it takes awhile. I'm not the best at answering letters, either, but if he sent me one saying Lily was pregnant, I'm pretty sure I'd make time to respond. I wrote Lissy, too, but I haven't heard from her, either. I think she may be mad at me or something because whenever I write her, she's always got some snippy reply when (and if) she answers. I know I haven't exactly kept in touch as well as I should, but it works both ways. She's _supposed _to be my best friend after all. Actually, I think she and Al are getting to be pretty good friends now that they're working together and everything- they probably talk about me behind my back, about how when I'm home, I only ever have time for Scorpius and that he's the only person I talk to on a regular basis and all those sort of things…

Speaking of Scorpius, though, he wrote to me and asked if I wanted to stay with him over my Christmas hols. I do want to. I want that more than anything really, but I know I can't. Mum would have a fit if I wasn't at home, and plus, I probably need to be around to make sure that Dad doesn't kill Hugo (even though he sort of deserves it for being such an idiot). I do want to stay with Scorpius, though, so much. Of course, we can always just do what we used to do during breaks from school when he would sneak into my room, and we would hide from my parents. But hiding and sneaking around gets old, especially when you've become accustomed to being on your own as we have.

Everything is just getting so difficult. I try not to think about it and focus on other things, but it's just getting so _hard. _I haven't seen him since the weekend of his first match, and that's been forever ago. The Tornados are doing fantastically well, and so far, they're completely undefeated. This means that the team itself is even busier than usual because they're doing tons more press than they normally do. I suppose I should be thankful that I at least get to _read _about him at a somewhat regular interval, but it's certainly not the same as actually _seeing _him.

School is getting a bit difficult, too. For the first time in my life, I'm actually being _forced _to study instead of just _choosing _to do so. I've always been a studier, but truthfully, I could have passed every class I've ever had in my whole life just by showing up to take the exams. Now, though, the material is getting _so _in depth and _so _detailed that I've got no choice but to kill myself revising every night. It's getting extremely stressful, and it's not at all as simple as I'd like it to be. Oh well, I suppose if becoming a healer wasn't difficult, I'd be scared to trust them when I became ill.

They're on us to start declaring fields as well, and I'm completely bloody _lost _when it comes to that. Part of me wants to just be a general healer and treat things like belly aches and chest colds, but part of me thinks that would get boring really quickly. Maybe I should do the more in depth stuff like the internal healing. Or… I could just go all out and do the labor and delivery crap- that way I can help out when my little niece or nephew is born. Vomit. I don't know what I'm going to do, and I'm certainly making no headway whatsoever in figuring it out.

To make matters _even _worse, Lola has now decided to have a boyfriend. In all the time I've known her (admittedly not _that _long in the grand scheme of things), I have never once known her to actually have a _boyfriend. _She certainly has lots of boys. And I'm sure she calls them her friends… But you know what I mean. She isn't _that _girl. She isn't that girl who has a relationship and has a boyfriend. That's _me. _She's the fun one, the one who doesn't have to be tied down to any one person and is free to do whatever (and _whoever) _she chooses.

But now, suddenly, she's _in love._

Now, I don't believe her. Mostly because I don't believe you _be _in love after just having known someone a few weeks. Do you know how long it took before I even said, "I love you," to Scorpius? One year and approximately seven months. And even then, I was scared shitless. I just don't think you should go 'round saying that sort of thing unless it's true. I don't understand the point in lying about that because I think it's something that should be taken fairly seriously.

Which is why I'm absolutely positive that Lola isn't being truthful- she can't take _anything _seriously.

But now she's got this boy- _Will- _and he's all but moved into our flat. Scratch that, he _has _moved into our flat. He is here _all the time, _and Lola has apparently let it slip her mind that he's not on the lease and certainly isn't paying any of the bills. He eats all the food, spends too much time in the bathroom, _and _he leaves messes everywhere. It's ridiculous. And rude. I would never do that. Scorpius has come to visit a few times, and he actually came here for a whole month last spring when he had his hiatus. It was right during my final exams, so I spent most of my time holed up in the library or in class, but he always kept the flat clean and was _always _respectful of Lola and her personal space. I can't say the same for Will…

But comparing Scorpius and Will is like comparing apples and oranges. Scorpius is… well… _rich. _He is very used to having the best of things, and while he isn't the braggy type at _all, _he has never known any differently. He has always had the most expensive clothes, the highest-priced tutors, and the best of _everything. _His house is positively ridiculous and looks more like a museum than anything. He says his grandparents' is even worse, though I've certainly never been invited over for dinner… My family isn't poor and we've got a fair bit of money, but we don't live like _that. _We've lived in the same house my entire life, and we haven't upgraded once- not when Landon was born and not when Mum got a new job and a big raise. It isn't small, and it's in a rather upscale neighborhood… but it's very normal- two stories, four bedrooms, three bathrooms. There's approximately twenty meters between us and the neighbors on every side, and it's tucked right onto a crowded Muggle street in a London neighborhood. Scorpius, on the other hand, lives close to the Scottish border on about fifty acres of property. It's seriously in the middle of _nowhere. _The closest neighbor is probably literally _miles _away, and their house just stands out like this sort of mega-mansion. The first time I ever went to his house, I really was sort of stunned. He'd tried to warn me about it, of course, but imagining it and then actually seeing it are two completely different things. The Malfoys are just ridiculously _wealthy, _and seeing as how there's consistently only one heir per generation, the fortune just keeps growing and growing. Scorpius jokes that we'll have "tons" of kids, just to piss the rest of his family off and break the tradition. Apparently a lot of those kids will even be _girls, _imagine the horror! Of course, I look at it from the complete opposite end of the spectrum, having been blessed as a Weasley and all that, and know I won't be having _tons _of anything- one heir sounds just perfect to me.

But still, Lola's boyfriend isn't like that at all. He was raised in a little Irish Wizarding community with several brothers and sisters with whom he was expected to share everything. He talks too loud, I guess so he can be heard, and he throws his things everywhere, I guess because he's used to having no space of his own. He is _far _from refined and well-mannered, and if Scorpius gives off the appearance of having been raised in a Gringotts vault, Will gives off the appearance of having been raised in a dirty pub. Maybe I'm just being mean, but what else am I supposed to say? It's bloody _annoying _the way he walks around here like he actually _lives _here or pays bills here.

And I want to say something to Lola, but I'm fairly certain it would end with us hating each other. So I don't. I don't have very many friends here as it is, so I need to preserve the ones that I do.

At the moment, I've blockaded myself into the school's library in an attempt to escape the madness of my flat. I'm pretty good with libraries. I've spent a good amount of time in them over the years. When I was younger, I used to visit the public library a few streets over from my house on a regular basis. Mum used to take me, and then when I got a little bit older, I used to walk over by myself. Once I started Hogwarts, I started spending even _more _time in the library, and by the time I finished, I'd probably logged more hours there than in my dormitory. So I feel comfortable here. Libraries are sort of a sanctuary for me, and I think better here than I do anywhere else. Of course, I have a tendency to _brood _here better than I do anywhere else. And since I seem to be on depression overload lately, it's not really a good idea for me to wallow and be alone with my thoughts.

I try in vain to focus on the text in front of me, but I don't feel much like studying. I'm distracted, I suppose, what with all the Hugo news and me being all pissed off at my roommate, confused about my future, and depressed about the very apparent absence of my boyfriend. There are a few other people around, but none of them seem to be having any issues focusing on their schoolwork. Apparently that's just me. I'm becoming increasingly worse at focusing in my old age- perhaps when I become a healer I can prescribe myself a potion to fix the problem.

A girl I don't know gets up from the table next to mine, gathers her things, and leaves. I watch her go and wonder why I'm so distracted that even watching random strangers exit the library is more entertaining than the books in front of me. When did I become this person? She left a newspaper on her desk, so I wait to make sure she isn't coming back and then sneak over to her now empty table and steal it. It's a copy of _The Daily Prophet. _I don't read the paper much since I've been in Ireland, though I still catch it occasionally. Today I'm just bored enough to read it.

Sadly, the times that I _do _read the newspaper are really the main source of connection I have with my friends and family since all of us are sort of shit at writing. Or I suppose I am, and all my friends and family gave up. And the one person I actually _do _write on a regular basis is normally too busy to write much back. Speaking of, the top headline on the front page is a glaring declaration that the Tornados are set to take the entire season. The past weekend's game was won by more than three-hundred and fifty points, and so far, they're the only team that's undefeated. Their entire season is already sold out, and the sports journalists are already predicting that some of their players will go on for England during the Cup. This particular article is, ironically, speculating _Scorpius's _chances of being chosen for Seeker.

"_With only a year of experience under his belt, Tornados' Seeker, Scorpius Malfoy, is already proving to be one of the league's most capable players. Will his stellar season be enough to move him ahead of the more-experienced Seekers? It's a very real possibility, though only time will tell. It's no secret that England has performed less than spectacularly over the past few years, so maybe new blood is exactly what the team needs to heighten their possibilities during the World Cup. Malfoy is certainly proving that experience does not necessarily mean talent, as he's quickly turning into one of the most talked about and watched players of the league. At nineteen, he is exhibiting skills and characteristics that some compare to those of a young Viktor Krum. Whether or not his newfound skills will land him a spot on England's team remains to be seen, but his team is certainly a sure bet for the league's playoff series."_

And there's a picture of him, looking so fantastically cute, flying straight towards and finally grasping the Snitch as it flies just inches from the opposing Seekers head. He looks so serious and so focused, and then the second he gets his fingers around the Snitch, a huge smile breaks out across his face right in time with the huge roaring cheer from the stands behind him. It sort of makes my heart hurt a little bit. I love that he's happy, of course, and that he's doing so well, but I don't love that I never get to be around to see it. Besides the season's opener, I haven't seen him play one match. I probably won't get to, either, seeing as how they all fall on weekends when it would be positively impossible for me to get away. It just sucks is all…

Further down the page, there's a small article tucked into a sidebar. The header reads, "Family of Four Killed in Bristol." It says so much about the world that four people can be murdered and still not receive top headline over a Quidditch story… The article itself isn't very long, though, and it doesn't take any time at all to finish all of it.

"_A family of four Muggles was found dead in their Bristol home on Sunday afternoon. The Muggle police ruled the causes of death as inconclusive and possibly related to an air chemical imbalance. Upon further investigation, though, the British Aurors have found evidence of suspected magical foul play. The Bakersmith family, including Angus Bakersmith aged thirty-seven, Angela Bakersmith aged thirty-five, and Tessa and Thomas Bakersmith both aged seven, were found in their home with no visible signs of forced entry. The only surviving member of the family is thirteen year old Victoria who is a Third Year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She is the first child in her family to be accepted to the Wizarding school and is said to be one of her Year's most promising students. At this time, there are no details known about possible motives or suspects in the attack."_

So this is what is considered a second-rate story? Seriously? Four people are killed, and it doesn't even get the same level of recognition that a Quidditch match receives? That's just pathetic. I try to place Victoria Bakersmith. If she's a Third Year this year, she would have just been in First my last year. I don't really remember her, but unless she's in Gryffindor, I probably wouldn't have any reason to. Even if she _is _in Gryffindor, there's a big chance that I simply overlooked her and didn't pay her much attention. That's so awful, though. It would be terrible at any age to have your entire family murdered, but for it to happen at such a young age is just unthinkable.

"Why do you look like you want to kill someone?"

I look up just in time to see Maribel slide into the chair opposite me. She's got her books with her as well, and I suppose she's come here to study the same as me.

"I don't want to kill anyone," I tell her, folding the newspaper back up.

"Oh, I forgot that's your everyday face." I narrow my eyes at her, and she laughs. "Lola's boyfriend still bugging you?"

"Ugh," I frown deeply. "I probably wouldn't mind killing _him."_

"Things will get better," she says honestly, the slightest hint of a Spanish accent spilling through. "You know she'll get sick of him before long, and then it'll be right back to the never-ending parade of various men."

"Oh, but she _loves _him," I say as seriously as possible.

"Well, I've never been in love, but I would assume that it would take more than a few weeks and a half-eaten box of chocolates…"

We both laugh at the story Lola regaled us with that involved Will bringing her a box of chocolates that were already half gone. He got hungry, she insisted, refusing to see that it was simply pathetic.

"Well, I _have _been in love," I say flatly. "And I can _assure _you that it took a hell of a lot more than a few weeks and some half-eaten chocolates."

"Well, you know Lola," Maribel sighs. "She's idealistic if nothing else."

I could come up with several other words to describe her as well, but Maribel's right. She certainly _is _idealistic. That doesn't excuse her from being insane and claiming love in the place of what is clearly infatuation, though.

"I can't focus," I say, changing the subject abruptly. "I think I hate school."

Maribel sort of looks like she wants to laugh, but she stops herself. Instead, her face just twitches a little bit. "I thought you were Queen of School?"

I frown and glare down at the texts in front of me. "I think I outgrew that."

"Well, look on the Brightside," she says cheerfully. "You've only got about a year and a half left, and then you'll be free of school forever!"

"Who needs school?" I ask teasingly, brandishing the newspaper at her. "My boyfriend's a completely famous Quidditch player, didn't you know?!"

Maribel laughs as she takes the newspaper and scans the article. "Wow," she says, feigning true interest. "Playing for England… that's quite an accomplishment, no?"

"He hasn't got a chance in hell of playing for England," I say honestly. "Quidditch is all about politics, and unfortunately, he doesn't quite have a corner on that market yet."

"He's the soon-to-be son-in-law of the Minister of Magic. That isn't enough of a corner?"

I snort. "Soon-to-be? Have you heard something I haven't?"

"Just speculation."

"Speculate all you want," I say dully, "but, as you can see, empty." I hold up my left hand as proof.

"It's only a matter of time," Maribel says smugly. I just narrow my eyes at her.

"If by matter of time, you mean, oh, ten years or so… Then yeah. Trust me, there is no _soon-to-be."_

"Whatever you say…"

I throw a quill at her, but she just laughs and shrugs. Finally she opens up her textbook and asks if I actually want to study. I don't, but I agree anyway. She is definitely much more into this whole school thing than I am, but I don't really care too much. I'm bored out of my mind, and now, thanks to Maribel and her stupid _speculation, _I'm even more distracted.

More than anything, though, I just want it to be Christmas break already. I wonder how difficult it would be to convince my parents that I don't _really _have to spend the entire holiday with them…

After all, if speculation is to become reality, there must first be opportunity.

*****************************************************

A/N: Sorry for the long delay. I haven't been feeling the best, but I'm starting to get better now. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter- I'm glad you guys liked the random third person POV, so maybe I'll do more of that in the future.


	14. James, December 6th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 14

**JAMES**

**December 6****th**

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Kate is the girl to which all other girls are compared.

Maybe she's always been that girl.

She's always been my _favorite _at any rate, even when we were really young. I think it's because she's as close to being a guy as it's possible to get while still being fantastically hot. She was never that simpering, giggling kind of girl- always more of a roll the eyes and flip you off kind of girl. And so, yes, I fell for her.

Once upon a time, when I was horribly vulnerable and in a state of teenage hormonal distraction, I fell for a girl. Hard. That girl was Kate Milton. And what happened? She dumped me, did a bit of the Nutcracker Suite on my heart, and then ran off to France.

What did _I _do?

I got rich. I got famous. I slept with loads of girls and didn't even bother learning their names. I went back to doing exactly what I've always been best at, and she went on her merry way and lived her life. And oh, Paris must be _just _as romantic as all those fuckwits claim because, imagine the surprise, she came back to London with a _fiancé. _

Gag me.

No, seriously. _Gag _me. Otherwise, I might just spew all over the floor right here in the middle of the pub, and I doubt Hannah'd be too thrilled about that. In fact, she'd probably try to hex my head off and then demand that I clean it up. Yeah, I don't really know why I even come to The Leaky Cauldron… It's the only pub in the country where I don't get free drinks and the royal treatment. It's also the only pub in the country where the barmaid doesn't seem too intimidated to demand that I clean up a mess or lower my voice. It's probably because she changed my nappies as a kid, so I suppose she thinks once she's seen all of that, it gives her free reign to order me around. It probably does.

Another reason I tend to return to The Leaky Cauldron is the fact that Charlotte absolutely won't go _near_ it. She loves to say that it's dirty and disease-infested and that the barstools would probably give her some rare form of hepatitis… Personally, I think if she hasn't got any form of hepatitis yet, she's damn lucky and should just count her blessings. She doesn't particularly see it that way. It is easy to ditch her here, though. She pouts, of course, and makes snide little comments about how I constantly ignore her. But really, she shuts up as soon as I hand her a little bit of money and tell her to go shopping. Some people might call that sort of relationship prostitution… I just call it convenience.

No one can fault me at the moment anyway, though, seeing as how I absolutely am being a great family man. In fact, it's positively a little family reunion right here in the pub. And by family reunion, of course, I mean Fred, Teddy, Al, and me. Fred, obviously, is always down for whatever, and we pretty much do everything together. Teddy… Well, Teddy is depressed about the failing of his marriage and the fact that my beautiful and charming cousin (that was complete sarcasm, if you couldn't tell) informed him that is going to be forced to live for the rest of his life with the knowledge that he abandoned his children (even though he still sees them pretty much every day). She even went so far as to say that at least his parents were murdered and that they didn't _choose _to abandon him… Victoire's a real peach, lemme tell ya… But what can I say? I _told _Teddy that marrying her was a mistake. I knew that, and I was only like fourteen- he should have known going into it that it would end badly. And Al, well, Al is weird, and sometimes he seems to enjoy being normal and spending time with us, and other times, he's far, far too good for us and snubs his nose. It's like tossing a coin with that boy, I tell you.

At the moment, though, we're all crowded into one of the back booths with several pints and several more on the way. What's the point of being confused about a girl if you can't at least get pissed with your mates? And I _am _confused. I see Kate all the time now. _All _the time. She handles all my financial issues at the bank, and it's like no matter how hard I try, I always end up spending money (or Charlotte does), and I have to go in there and meet with her. Things are getting beyond ridiculous now, and the sexual tension is enough to make just about any man weep. Not that I would _ever _weep, but _fuck, _it's like it takes every single ounce of self-control that I've got not to grab her and just give it to her right there on her classically messy desk.

And she wants it, too.

She can deny it all she want and go on and on and on about _Marc, _her gay French lover, but she isn't fooling me. She twists around awkwardly in her seat for a reason. It's because all she can think about is what it was like to have a _real _shag instead of whatever that Parisian dipshit is doing for her. It's because she's horrified to realize that even when I was sixteen and fucking her that she was getting off better than she does now as a fully-grown woman with a supposed fully-grown man. And she can say whatever she wants, but I know the truth.

She practically _begs _for it.

My men haven't got any words of encouragement, though. Fred is sick of hearing about it. Al is clueless. And Teddy, well, Teddy's got his own shit ton of issues. Poor guy. Oh, well, at least he's given me a good verbal excuse when it comes to warding off Charlotte's incessant marriage nagging.

At the moment, he's on his sixth pint of firewhiskey and doesn't seem eager to slow down any time soon. Instead of getting cheerier, though, as one _should _with hard liquor (yes, it's a downer, I've heard, so what? I don't believe that), he keeps getting more and more sullen (damn, I think he just proved the point I was trying to disprove). His head keeps drooping further and further forward, and there's been more than one occasion when I would guess that he was going to burst into tears. Luckily, he doesn't. Instead, he just regales us of woeful stories of his failed marriage.

"My children hate me," he says flatly, sighing loudly to reiterate his point.

"They don't hate you, mate," I say, _trying _to be helpful because that's what I do. I'm a nice person and all.

"No, they do," he insists, fixing me with a very serious wide-eyed sort of look. "Dora literally said, _'Daddy, I hate you.' _She said it yesterday."

"That's because Dora's a brat," Fred shrugs.

"Watch it," Teddy snaps, narrowing his eyes at Fred dangerously. It's almost laughable, but we all manage to keep the snickering to ourselves.

"She's like Vic made over," Fred clarifies, saving himself a bit, I suppose.

"_Victoire's _a brat," I throw out helpfully. When Teddy glares at me, I just shrug. "I've been telling you that my whole life."

"She wanted to have another baby," he throws out suddenly. "She told me that a few months ago. I told her no." He's sort of speaking as if he's in a daze, and the rest of us are all sitting 'round the table looking at each other uncomfortably. "Now she's divorcing me."

"Oh, yeah!" Al speaks up out of nowhere. His eyes are glazed, and he's well on his way to being pissed. It doesn't take much with him. He doesn't drink all that often, and when he does, he's a complete light weight. "Guess what!"

He looks at all of us as if he's actually waiting for us to guess. That's the thing about drunk people, though. Rhetorical questions become literal.

Good thing Teddy's drunk enough to be on the same level. "What?"

"Hugo's got somebody knocked up!"

We all sit there and say nothing as we stare at him in what is actual and literal stock. He's got some stupid grin on his face that almost makes me think he's telling the truth.

"Hugo?" I ask skeptically. "Hugo _Weasley?"_

Now he just looks at me like _I'm _the one speaking irrationally. "How many other Hugos do you know?"

I ignore him, and instead I look over at Fred who meets my eye with what I'm sure is a nearly identical expression. It's part-shock, part-glee, part-disbelief…

"Hugo _Weasley," _Fred says slowly. "Our _cousin, _Hugo Weasley… has got a girl… _pregnant?!"_

"Who told you that?" I demand, snapping my head back around to look at my brother.

"Rose did," he says nonchalantly. Then he sort of looks horrified for a second. "Oh, shit… She told me not to say anything… so don't say anything…"

Forget that. Like I give a shit what Rose says. It doesn't matter anyway because this is _fantastic! _"Who knew the little wanker had it in him?!"

"No shit!" Fred laughs back, and the identical looks from earlier are now replaced with full-out gleeful looks of joy. Only Teddy looks a wee bit wary, but that's probably just because he's well on his way to falling face first into his drink and drowning himself.

"So who is it?" I ask eagerly, looking straight on at Al who seems pleased just to be included in the conversation.

"Maria Martinez."

I try to place her. "Maria Martinez?" I ask, the gleeful look turning to one of slight repulsion. "That girl in Hufflepuff with the bad teeth?"

"Oh, she got those fixed ages ago," he says dismissively. "But yeah. That one."

Wow. I can't imagine _that, _either. I figured it was probably some low-rent slag who got him pissed, shagged him, and knocked herself up on purpose for money or something. I can't see that girl doing all of that, though… Not that I know her or anything, but she certainly wouldn't be my first guess for the lucky lady.

Wow. Just _wow._

"Do his parents know?" Teddy asks, speaking up for the first time as the voice of rationality.

Al nods eagerly, downing some more of his drink and making himself even _more _open to spilling. "Yeah, and Aunt Hermione wants to pay Maria off!"

"Stop!" Fred says, positively roaring now. Hannah looks over at us from across the pub and hisses a very sharp _SHHHHH _at us. Fred lowers his voice a bit and shakes his head laughing. "Pay her off how?"

Al shrugs. "I dunno. Pay her off to get rid of it, or pay her off to disappear… I dunno, but that's what Rose said!"

"And what about Ron?" Teddy asks, always the logical one.

"Oh, he's _pissed," _Al says seriously. "Hugo probably shouldn't come home for Christmas hols…"

This is absolutely fabulous. Fred apparently finds it just as amusing, and Al now can't keep his mouth closed.

"I always thought he was shagging Amanda Longbottom," he goes on carelessly. "Guess I was wrong about that! He should still try it anyway. She's not bad looking, you know?"

"What did you say?"

Oh, _fuck. _

The table immediately goes silent as everyone looks up in fear at Hannah who has now actually crossed the pub to silence us face to face. Of course, she _would_ show up at _exactly _the same moment the discussion turns to the possible shagging of her daughter. Naturally.

No one says anything, and Hannah glares at all of us before zeroing in on Al and putting a finger straight in his face. "Now, you listen to me, young man," she says sharply. "Don't you think for one second that just because some other people in the world may be impressed by you and all your Potter shit doesn't _remotely _mean I am. If I _ever _hear you say something like that again, I swear to you, I'll hex you so terrible, you won't even remember what shagging _is, _do you understand me?"

We all sit there silently, not even daring to crack a smile. We know better. Al doesn't blink, just nods solemnly and says, "Yes, ma'am," as dead seriously as possible.

Hannah keeps her glare on him for a few more seconds before turning it on each of the rest of us in turn. "I swear, I don't know _when _you lot are going to grow up," she mutters under her breath, waving her wand at some of the empty glasses and sending them soaring back toward the bar. "Wait 'till I tell your parents…"

She walks away, still mumbling, and we wait until she's _well _on the other side of the pub before we make any noise. Finally, it seems pretty safe, and Fred slaps Al upside the head. "Good job, fuckwit."

"Well, how was I supposed to know she was right behind me?" he hisses back, rubbing the spot where Fred hit. "You arsewipes could have told me!"

"I'm too old for this shit," Teddy mutters randomly, dropping his head into his hands.

We all sit there stunned for a second, none of us really knowing what just happened and still shocked by the Hugo news. The alcohol is starting to work a bit more on Fred and me as well, and there's a very loud silent pause for a minute or so until Al decides that opening his mouth yet _again _would be a good thing.

It worked out so well the last time, of course…

"I'm sleeping with Elisabeth Richardson."

Okay, _what?_

First Hugo, and now Al… It's like the peaky gits of the world are taking over or something. What is with all this unsolicited shagging by these otherwise nice, well-raised boys? Tsk, tsk. It's almost a shame…

Teddy is the first to speak. He lifts his head from his hands and stares my brother down for a good few seconds before shaking his head slowly. "Al. You know that can get you fired, right?"

He sounds so serious and just exactly as if maybe he really _is _too old for this shit. Al's eyes are wide, almost as if he can't believe he's actually just come out and said this. Still, though, he's got this sort of defiant look about him, and I wonder if he's really lost his head.

"Only if we get caught," he replies evenly, leveling a look at Teddy that surprises even me. They have a little stare down, and Fred and I just sit back and watch.

Teddy caves first, and he sighs a little as if he doesn't _really _want to go into lecture mode but can't quite help himself. "Those rules are in place for a reason, Al," he says reasonably. "That sort of thing causes distractions."

Al just rolls his eyes. "Oh, come off it," he says breezily. "You better not say anything."

"Then don't do anything to _make _me tell," Teddy says back flatly. "I'm not going to sacrifice the rest of the team for you, so don't put me in that position." Al opens his mouth, but Teddy cuts him off. "You need to stop it."

"Oh, pull the stick out of your arse, Teddy," I say, rolling my own eyes. "Just because you're miserable doesn't mean you have to go 'round making everyone else miserable, too. Let the kid have some fun."

"I'm not a _kid," _Al breaks in immediately, of course _completely _missing the fact that I just stood up for him.

Teddy isn't too pleased, either. "It's my _job_ to keep idiots like him in order. Rules are there for a reason, and I wouldn't let anyone else slide with it, either."

"Are you his boss or something?" Fred asks, honestly confused. I'm not too sure myself even. I don't know how the ranking Auror shit works, and really, I don't give a damn.

"I'm above him, that's enough," Teddy snaps. "And I'm serious, Al. You two need to cut it out, or you're both going to end up in big trouble. Do you have any idea what your dad would say?"

"Oh, who gives a fuck?" I ask, downing the last of my current pint. "Fuck him."

"Did Elisabeth grow up hot?" Fred asks out loud, and I nod with a smirk. Al sees this and frowns, but a second later, his face changes, and he, too, smiles and nods.

She did, too. She started turning that way around the last year or two I was in school. I saw her recently, too, when I was at the Ministry a couple of months ago. She's even hotter now. Of course, I'm sure she's still a bitch. She _is _best friends with Rose after all…

"Does Rose know?" I blurt out, looking over at Al who _instantly _turns a brilliant shade of Weasley blush red.

"No," he mutters. "So don't tell her, either."

"Oh, just have a couple of drinks at Christmas dinner," Fred jokes, his eyes sparkling a bit. "I'm sure she'll find out straight from the horse's mouth."

"Yeah, remind me never to tell you any secrets," I say, and Al just shrugs.

Teddy isn't in the mood to humor us any longer. He drops several a few pieces of gold onto the table and stands up to put his coat on. "I've got to go," he says sullenly. "It's late."

It isn't _that _late. But seeing as how he's just being a downer anyway, I don't particularly care.

"See you, mate," I say with very little enthusiasm. Everyone else says bye as well, and he Disapparates a few moments later.

"He's definitely going to rat you out," Fred says, waving to get Hannah's attention again so that we can get another round.

"He won't tell," Al says, though he doesn't sound all too confident. "He's got a _bit _more loyalty than that."

"You hope," Fred mutters.

"He has," I tell them both. "But you need to be careful and act as if you've called it off even if you don't, Al. Because he's got a bit of loyalty to you, yeah, but he's got more to Dad, and you know it."

It's the truth, too, and Al knows it. Teddy's up Dad's arse as far as it's possible to go without getting stuck. Not that it's his fault, of course, because he can't help the hero worship that's intrinsically ingrained into him. He hasn't got any real parents, so he clings to the closest thing he's got. He's a cool guy, so I normally overlook that particular flaw pretty well.

But wow.

Talk about your dramatic night…

Thanks to firewhiskey and Al's complete inability to hold his liquor, I've now got a whole bevy of gossip to entertain me. With all of _this, _I very nearly forget about Kate altogether. Of course I _don't, _though, but I come close. It's alright. Thoughts of her are also easier to deal with when there's a bit of alcohol in my system.

I have a feeling it's going to be a _very _interesting Christmas.

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A/N: So that update was a bit quicker thankfully! Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a review for the last chapter- they all mean very much!


	15. Hugo, December 16th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 15

**HUGO**

**December 16****th**

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It won't be so bad.

It _won't._

I keep telling myself this over and over again as the Hogwarts Express gets closer to London. Christmas holidays rolled around far too quickly, and now here we are. It's nice to be out of school, but thinking about seeing my parents certainly isn't the most pleasant feeling in the world. After all, I'm fairly certain that my father is going to try and inflict physical pain on me, and my mother is probably going to spend the next two weeks or so crying every time she looks at me.

And it's all because of _her._

Maria is currently curled up napping on the seat beside me. She's been asleep for the last hour or so, so Amanda and I have been doing our best to keep our voices down and not wake her. We're "together" now, I suppose- Maria and me. It's weird. And very, very complicated.

Not too mention… not entirely truthful.

I found out a little over a month ago that she was pregnant. It took me a week after that to actually approach her about it. During that time, I told my parents, and they reacted pretty closely to how I expected, though I didn't really think Mum would suggest paying her to make it go away… That shocked me. She shut up about it once I told her that wasn't happening, but I have a feeling that she still thinks it's the best idea. It's not.

I finally plucked up the courage to talk to Maria about it around the end of November. I caught her after dinner one night when she was cramming for a Charms test. She was in the corner of the library all by herself, and since I'd stalked her incessantly in the weeks prior to that, it wasn't difficult for me to find her. She looked surprised when I sat down, but she didn't protest. We hadn't really spoken since the time I shagged her in the bathroom, so it was awkward straight away.

We made a little bit of stupid small talk, but I quickly got sick of that and decided to cut right to it. "Lily told me."

Maria immediately turned a dark shade of red and looked away. Her eyes watered, and I really honestly thought she was going to cry. "I don't know what to do," she said quietly. "And now everyone's going to know…"

"Lily won't tell," I promised her. She looked at me skeptically, and I didn't at all blame her. But she wouldn't. "She won't."

"I don't know what to do," she repeated, and I could tell she was looking around behind my head to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"I'll help you," I promised. "And my parents… They have money…" I hated bringing my parents or their money into anything, but sometimes it was necessary. "They'll help you, too."

And they would. Once Dad got past his initial fury and Mum got over the fact that it wasn't just going to disappear, they would help. They might be slightly insane, but they're good people. And good parents- they wouldn't just let me crash and burn.

"It's okay," she said sadly. "I'll figure something out…"

"No," I said seriously. "I'll help you. It's my responsibility, too."

"Your responsibility?"

And I could tell right in that second by the look in her eyes that everything had gone terribly wrong and that I had somehow made a huge mistake that was going to end up very wrong. She stared at me for a very long and painful moment, and a million different thoughts flew through my head at once.

"Hugo… This isn't… I never…" She couldn't get her words straight. "Did Lily tell you…"

"No," I shook my head slowly, my voice low and even. "I just thought…"

"The dates don't add up," she said quietly.

I probably should have felt tons of relief roll off me at that point, but for some reason, I almost felt a little disappointed. And I didn't feel any sort of relief at all really. I didn't know if asking the next question would be too nosey, but at that point, I sort of felt like I had a right to know. Though, of course, I didn't really.

"So whose…" my voice faltered slightly, "is it?"

Maria didn't say anything at first, and I sort of figured that I'd crossed the line into too personal. After all, we weren't friends, and it wasn't as if she had any sort of obligation to tell me or anything. She did, though. Finally. "Tim Carroll." The look on her face let me know that she wasn't exactly thrilled with this bit of news.

"Does he know?"

"No, and he won't," she said flatly. "Not until the last possible moment anyway, and then I'll make up something to keep him away." She said all of this very easily, as if this, out of the whole situation, was the simplest part.

"Why would you want to keep him away?" I knew I was asking too many questions, but by that point, I didn't really care. If she was going to keep answering them, I'd keep asking.

"Because I hate him," she answered immediately. "And he's the biggest arsehole I've ever met in my entire life. I don't want anything to do with him."

I could tell by her expression that this part was particularly difficult for her. She obviously wasn't exaggerating when she said that she hated him, and I wondered what he'd done to hurt her so badly. It wasn't fair, though, that she should have to worry about all this alone.

"Have you told your parents?"

"God no," she said, rolling her eyes. "They don't need to know until the last possible moment, either."

"Won't they expect him to help?"

She shrugged. "I'll tell them he's dead or something, I don't care."

She really sounded as if she believed that was a plausible plan. My next words sprung into my head out of nowhere, but I thought about them for a good, long moment before I said them. Part of me knew it was wrong, but a bigger part of me said it was the right thing. So, swallowing my nerves, I stumbled over the sentence awkwardly. "You could… You could tell them… it's mine."

She didn't say anything for a really long time, and my words just hung over us like some sort of weird flashing sign. I felt my face heating up and cursed my genes for the millionth time in my life. She probably thought I was some sort of baby-stealing psycho or something. I wished I could put the words back into my mouth, but obviously that wasn't happening. They were out there, and they were going to haunt us both.

Finally, after what seemed like _ages, _she said something. "Why would you want that?"

I didn't know _why _I would want that. But I just said, "You shouldn't have to go through this by yourself." And she shouldn't, at least that part was true.

She didn't know what to say. She looked confused and strangely touched. Finally, she shook her head in disbelief. "Your parents would kill you."

"I already told them."

"What?" Her eyes widened a bit. "Why would you do that?"

"I don't like lying to my parents," I said, realizing immediately how stupid that sounded since I'd just offered to lie to them and tell them a baby was their grandchild when it wasn't.

Maria just shook her head. "You're a really good person, Hugo. Do you know that?"

And that was it.

After that, I started holding her hand and walking with her in the corridors. News spreads like wildfire around Hogwarts, so everyone in the world immediately knew we were supposedly together. Surprisingly, though, word of the teenage pregnancy has _not _spread. She doesn't look pregnant or anything yet, and I guess Lily is keeping her word and not saying anything. Apparently the only people who know are Maria, Lily, Amanda, and me. And my parents, of course. I doubt anyone else in the family knows unless maybe they told Rose. Hopefully she didn't tell anyone… And the only people who know the _truth _are Maria and me- I didn't tell Lily or Amanda that the baby really isn't mine.

When the train pulls into the station, I reach over and gently shake Maria awake as Amanda starts gathering up all our coats and bags. She isn't very easy to wake up, and when she finally does, she's very groggy and doesn't seem to be in the best mood.

"Is it cold outside?" she asks as Amanda hands over her coat.

"It's the middle of December, so I'm going to guess yes," Amanda says snidely, though I can tell she's at least _trying _to be as friendly as possible.

Maria slides the coat on and slings her bag over her shoulder. "Here we go," she mumbles irritably. "Walking straight into the pits of hell…"

And it certainly _looks _like the pits of hell when we get off the train. Dad's there with Aunt Ginny, and they both look sort of hurried and annoyed. That's always a great sign… I glance around for Lily, but I don't see her anywhere.

"Come on," I tell Maria, taking her hand and sucking it up. I have to get it over with eventually. She drags her feet, but she follows along with me nonetheless.

Aunt Ginny's holding Maddie, Teddy and Victoire's youngest daughter, and when I look behind them, I can see Landon and Dora running around chasing each other further down the platform. I guess they're getting along today- you can never tell with those two. I hug my dad and my aunt, and when neither of them immediately kill me, I introduce Maria.

"Dad, Aunt Ginny, this is Maria. Maria, this is my dad and my aunt." She shakes both their hands, and I can tell she's extremely nervous. Luckily, neither of them say anything, and I imagine Mum must have done some pre-trip threatening. Speaking of…

"Where's Mum?"

"She's working," Dad says, rather shortly. I try not to react or notice. He looks past me at Amanda who is still standing by awkwardly. "Your mum said you can just take the train over to the pub, but I can drive you if you want."

She opens her mouth like maybe she might accept, but at that very moment, Lily shows up with Louis who is busy making out with one of those twins. I don't know if it's Miranda or Meredith, but I'm quite sure Lily was the driving force behind the new relationship. Maybe she lets Louis _share_ them. It wouldn't surprise me.

"No, thanks," Amanda says with a dark look in Lily's general direction. "I'll see you guys later." She hurries off then to the main terminal to make a connection. Ideally, we could all just Apparate to wherever we should be going today, but even though we're of age, the school has strict policies that forbid Apparating to, from, or within the station.

Louis is still distracted by whichever twin's currently got her tongue down his throat, and now Lily's distracted as well, as several of her friends have run up to tell her goodbye and wish her Happy Christmas. You would think they could do all of that on the train, but no, apparently not.

"Is she yours?" Maria asks, and I look over to see her speaking to my aunt and gently running a hand down Maddie's shiny, fine blonde hair. Aunt Ginny laughs and shakes her head.

"No, she's my cousin's daughter," I supply helpfully, and Maria nods. Landon and Dora suddenly appear, both out of breath. "And this is her sister," I say, nodding at Dora who, unlike Maddie, doesn't have shiny, fine blonde hair. Hers is bright pink and curly today, and I can tell Maria's a bit shocked by it. "And this is my little brother."

Landon stares up at Maria curiously for a second and then bluntly asks, "Is that your _girlfriend?" _

There's about five seconds of awkward silence, but _thankfully, _Lily and Louis finally decide to grace us with their presence at exactly the right moment. Maria takes that as her window of escape and tells everyone goodbye and that it was nice to meet them. She waves at me and runs off to find her own family. Lily watches her go but says nothing, she just gives me a significant kind of look and hurries to grab Maddie from her mum. They're apparently taking Louis with them, so we all make our way to the parking area where we break off in two separate directions. This is really the only time anyone in my family drives anymore now that Rose and I are both old enough to take care of ourselves. Landon's still pretty small, so he's easy enough to transport.

"So, when's Rose coming home?" I ask, trying to make small talk as we reach the car and all get buckled in. Landon is already whining about the belt cutting into his throat and being too tight- he _always _does that.

"Tomorrow." Lovely. One word answers.

"When does Mum get off work?"

"Six."

And it goes on like this. I ask questions, he gives one word answers. It's annoying, but it's also very predictable. This is typical to how he responds when he's having to physically force himself from being confrontational. Rose does _exactly _the same thing. Finally, though, I can't take it any longer, and I just give up trying to small talk.

"Are we going to talk about it, or are you just going to be pissed at me forever?"

His fingers curl around the steering wheel tightly, and he curses the London traffic loudly, though I know, of course, that he'd much rather be cursing me. "I am trying not to kill you, son," he says flatly. "To be honest."

"I said I was sorry."

"Yes, and I am _trying _not kill you."

I sigh loudly and glance in the mirror at Landon who has already passed out with his head against the window. He isn't in a car often, so the second he starts moving, he's out like a light.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," I mutter, looking out the passenger window at the slow-moving traffic all around me.

"And just what do you expect to do about it?" he snaps, his voice finally not so calm. At least it's something. "Do you know how much money it costs to raise a baby?"

"I'll get a job," I say quietly.

"You'll get a job," he repeats, and he snorts a mean sort of sarcastic laugh. "You'll get a job doing what? Stacking shelves at Wheezes? That's all you're qualified to do."

"I'll get my NEWTs."

He doesn't say anything because he knows I'm right. It's not as if I'm fourteen years old, I'll be done with school completely in a few months. Still, though, he doesn't give in that easily.

"The newspapers are going to ruin that girl's life, I hope you know."

This, of course, is something I've tried very much not to think about. Obviously I know that when word gets out, it's going to be big news and the papers are going to be all over it. They nearly salivate at the mouth trying to get something on my family, and even the littlest mishaps end up as major headlines. I can handle it, I'm used to it. It will be awful for Maria, though, because I doubt they'll be too kind to her. Also, I'm sure she's never had her personal life strewn through the headlines, either, so I'm not sure how she'll react. I want to believe that she'll be able to ignore it, but I know that may not be the case.

Still, though, I feel the little bit of stubbornness I have in me surface. "She'll be fine. We'll deal with it."

He doesn't say anything for awhile, and I can tell that he's trying very hard not to reach over and strangle me. He's still gripping the steering wheel tightly, and his knuckles are actually turning white. The silence is thick and deafening, and I wish we'd just hurry up and be home already. The stupid traffic, though, makes this impossible.

"I just thought you were smarter than this, Hugo," he says finally, his voice an odd mix of disbelief and disappointment.

Truthfully, I feel awful. I feel bad for being stupid enough to get into this situation in the first place and then even worse for now lying about it. I'm going to end up hurting my family, but I can't let Maria take all this on by herself. It isn't fair that somebody should have to go through this sort of thing alone. Still, though, I know that I'm going to end up hurting my family in the end because the press loves to pick on us and on Mum especially. They're going to tear her apart over this, and it could hurt her approval rating and even her chances in the future of getting reelected. But I don't know what else to do.

"I'm sorry," I say again, mostly because I don't know what _else _to say.

"Your mum's going mental, you know that, right?"

I nod, ashamed that I'm putting them both through this. "I know," I mumble.

"She thinks you're still a fucking child yourself, and she wants to make it all disappear for you. You know that?"

I nod again. I don't know what to say.

"She doesn't need this," he goes on, and he refuses to look over at me, keeping his eyes deadlocked on the unmoving cars in front of him. "She's already too stressed as it is."

"I know," I mumble. "I'm _sorry."_

He doesn't say anything for awhile, and I feel way more guilt than I initially expected. I wish I could go back and change everything right now so that none of this ever happened. After a long silence, he finally asks, "Did you even find out for sure that it's yours?"

I hesitate, and there's a part of me that _almost _wants to tell the truth. But it doesn't happen. I'm in too deep now.

I nod. "It is…"

And Dad says nothing else. We ride in silence the whole rest of the way home.

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A/N: Ooooh, so many lies these children tell. So much unnecessary trouble they cause themselves! I'm glad you guys liked the last chapter and all the drunken boys. Christmas is going to be very interesting, stay tuned and please review!!


	16. Al, December 20th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 16

**AL**

**December 20****th**

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Rose is annoying.

I don't know if it's just that I've always been around her, so I never really noticed… Or maybe she's gotten a lot worse since she's been in Ireland… I'm not sure what it is, but now that she's home, she's absolutely about to drive me _mental._

She's been home for two days, and she's spent those two days curled up on my sofa whining about how it isn't fair that she has to be in London when she really wants to be in Tutshill. I told her to bloody just _go _to Tutshill, but she insists that she needs to wait a week or so until Scorpius is done with mid-season training. I wonder if she annoys _him _as much as she annoys _me. _If she does, I don't know _how _he puts up with it- he must really love her or something.

Me personally? I want to kill her.

I don't see how she makes it through the day really, considering the fact that she's clearly _so _unhappy with her life. She says she hates school, she only has two friends, people are mean to her, and she never, ever sees her boyfriend. I have heard this same sentence worded about a million different ways in the past couple of days. It's pretty much the _only _thing she says, unless, of course, she wants to complain about the fact that Hugo is getting coddled for having a baby…

Yes, I remember spilling that and other secrets a couple of weeks ago to not only Teddy, but also to Fred and to _James. _So far, I don't think any of them have ratted me out because Rose still thinks I haven't told anyone and that it's all still a secret. I hope she continues to think that way forever because I don't really imagine her being too pleased to know I let that one slip. And honestly, I'm scared of Rose. Yes, I understand that I'm an Auror and that I'm supposed to be trained to fight and all this crap now… But I've been scared of that girl for as long as I can remember, and I don't really think a few training courses are supposed to have changed that. And if they _were_, well, then they sucked. Because I'm still scared of her.

But speaking of secrets that should have remained hidden… Not only did I tell them all about Hugo and his baby drama, I also admitted to shagging Elisabeth. This would be bad enough on any level. If I just said it around James and Fred, though, they'd take the piss and be done with it. But I had to go and say it around _Teddy _who apparently feels like it's his duty to make sure I don't do anything wrong and to watch out for me and make sure I don't get into trouble. It's not Teddy's fault, of course, that he feels like an older brother. The only problem is that my _real _older brother would never act like that, so I don't understand Teddy's insatiable need to look out for me. Especially when that need might lead him to rat on me "for my own good." He's giving me a chance right now, he said, to break it off with Elisabeth before he _has _to tell someone, meaning my dad.

But I don't want to break it off with Elisabeth.

Shagging her is quite a lot of fun, and she's actually a pretty cool girl. Also, I don't see how we're to be expected to just go back to being normal like nothing ever happened and do shifts together just like regular coworkers. I hardly think that's plausible, and if it is, well, I doubt I'd be able to pull it off. I'm not so great with the whole sort of casual thing. I haven't got enough experience to pull that off without looking like an idiot.

And consequently, Rose being home and invading my flat has put a serious damper on any sort of alone time I should have with Elisabeth. Even if I _wanted _to break things off, I wouldn't have had the chance. And Elisabeth is avoiding my flat at all costs, too, because any time she happens by, Rose accosts her and doesn't give her even an inch of breathing room. And I've got a feeling that Elisabeth feels much the same as I do about Rose lately- I'm fairly certain that she's suddenly realized that Rose is _really _annoying.

"The potatoes are burnt," Rose announces flatly as she suddenly reappears from the kitchen. I've had a few rare moments of peace, so I'm hurriedly trying to finish up some paperwork that should have been done days ago.

I can smell the burnt smell in here, so I'm not all that surprised, though I don't know how it's possible to burn something that's being cooked by magic. But Rose has been blessed with her mother's cooking ability and is absolutely _hopeless _in the kitchen, so I guess I should expect it. She was trying to prepare a dish for the family get-together that we've both been roped into attending, but, of course, her efforts have turned into a disaster.

"It's fine," I tell her, glancing at the clock. We need to be leaving now if we're going to make it in time. "I'm sure Nana's made some."

Rose frowns, and I can tell she's honestly disappointed in herself, though I can't imagine why burnt potatoes would be enough to make anyone look so downfallen. She isn't normal, though, especially not lately.

"Now everyone's going to think we're lazy idiots for not bringing anything," she says seriously, and I honestly have to force myself not to laugh.

"No one's going to notice."

Rose doesn't say anything else, just looks past me at the clock and goes off to get her coat. I follow suit, and a few minutes later, we both Apparate right into Nana and Granddad's garden. It's positively _freezing _out here, and for a second, Rose seems halfway normal. She curses loudly, and we both channel our eight year old selves and race toward the backdoor, kicking the freshly-fallen snow up all over the place. We're both laughing by the time we reach the door (I beat her, just barely), and she shoves me out of the way to enter first.

The Burrow's kitchen is infinitely warmer than the garden, but it's just as empty. This is odd, considering the fact that family dinners _rarely _allow for an empty kitchen. Something smells delicious, though, and Rose is easily distracted enough to open the oven and investigate.

"Roast," she announces, standing back up and turning to me. "And potatoes." I can't help but grin, happy to know that perhaps she'll stop beating herself up over badly cooked potatoes now that there's an oven full of them. "Where is everyone?"

I shrug, knowing no more than her, of course. We head through the rest of the kitchen and into the living room, which, contrastingly, is _full _of people. Though none of them notice our arrival.

Dora is putting on a show. This is fairly common for her, considering the fact that she _adores _being the center of attention, and I'm not surprised at all to see that she's forced Maddie and Molly's two year old, Connor, to be her back-up. Maddie and Connor clearly have no idea what they're supposed to be doing, of course, but Dora seems perfectly intent on carrying the show alone. She's certainly captivated everyone's attention, or at least their pretend attention. It's funny how Dora looks just like Teddy but acts just like Vic, whereas Maddie is exactly the opposite and looks like Vic but is quiet and acts more like Teddy. Speaking of which, neither of them seem to be in the audience of their children's big show, but this isn't really surprising, seeing as how they're both quite sulky and reclusive lately. My mum and dad have been keeping the kids a lot, and I guess Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur have, too.

Finally, when Dora makes her grand finale, a few people acknowledge our presence. Rose isn't paying attention, of course, because she's been completely side-tracked by Landon who, I assume, refused to take part in Dora's show, though I'm sure she tried to force him. Rose and Landon are tight, and I mean _tight. _She is the one person in the world to whom he actually seems to listen and pay attention, and she's actually very good with him, despite the fact that the rest of the world is under the general consensus that he must have been spawned straight from Satan himself. But it's also a bit worrisome, of course, considering the fact that Rose wasn't the most pleasant child in the world, and her youngest brother is being groomed to behave exactly like her. Still, though, I suppose it's sort of nice. But it must suck for Hugo.

Speaking of Hugo, he's definitely not in the living room, and neither, I notice, is Lily. A few years ago, I would easily assume that they must be somewhere together, but I wouldn't immediately make that assumption now because they aren't exactly best mates anymore. So that leaves my options to… Dominique and Molly who are now annoying Connor by tickling him to death… or Dad and Uncle Ron who are sitting together on the sofa with their heads ducked together, clearly conspiring about something. I guess I choose them because Dominique and Molly are both quite annoying, and everyone else has run off either to help in the kitchen or to play with the kids.

They notice my presence as I stand over them awkwardly. I don't want to go right in and interrupt them, so it's better to wait to be noticed.

"What's up, mate?" Dad asks, and he scoots over so I can sit down.

I shrug as I sit. "Where's Hugo and Lily?"

"They ran off somewhere," he says, though I can tell he wasn't really paying attention when they disappeared. "I think she dragged him shopping or something."

I raise my eyebrows, concerned for several reasons, not the least of which being that the idea of Lily dragging Hugo _shopping _is laughable at best. They don't even get along that well anymore; I can't imagine that she would actually be able to convince him to go shopping with her, nor that she would even _want _him to go shopping with her. Of course, my dad and my uncle don't seem to think this is so outrageous apparently, but that's probably because they don't realize that Hugo and Lily don't normally speak to each other in public anymore. Dad doesn't realize a lot of things when it comes to Lily, though- like the fact that she's a stuck up evil bitch for example. It's funny because he certainly realized all of that when it came to James, but he tends to overlook it in Lily. Strange because Lily often makes James look like a saint.

Dad and Uncle Ron ignore me after that and go back to their discussion. Apparently they can't agree over how to approach the recent string of massacres that have begun taking place across the country. So far, three families have been hit, all in completely different areas and all with no obvious link between them. Except for the fact that they all have first generation Muggle-born children currently at Hogwarts. The Muggle police aren't claiming any connection between the murders, though as an Auror, it's extremely difficult to overlook the glaring similarity.

"We should at least issue a statement of warning to the Muggle-borns' families," Uncle Ron says firmly. "Chances are, they've got no idea of what's happened, and it's not as if the students themselves are going to run home blathering about it."

"And why wouldn't they?" Dad asks back.

Uncle Ron rolls his eyes and leans back into the sofa cushions. "I dunno, ask Hermione."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that she never told her parents _anything _that was happening because they would have jerked her out of school and forbid her to return. Hell, they almost wouldn't let her come back after Second Year even. _My _dad had to convince her parents that the whole Petrifying thing was just a fluke accident." I'm lost, but I just sit there and listen as he carries on. "She sure as hell didn't tell them _anything _after that."

"That's different," Dad says dismissively. "That was an entirely different sort of situation."

"It's not different, either," Uncle Ron argues back firmly. "You were raised by Muggles. You _know _they're afraid of things they don't understand. The kids aren't going to run home and tell their parents they might be in danger of being murdered because they _know _what the reaction will be."

I agree with my uncle on this one, but I still don't say anything. They wouldn't listen to me anyway, I'm sure, seeing as how I have, oh, zero influence on any sort of decisions that get made by the department. Dad doesn't seem convinced, though he does hesitate just a bit before arguing back.

"The parents are going to take their kids out of school anyway, even if we _do _send them formal warnings."

Uncle Ron shrugs. "Well, at least they'll be prepared. It's not fair not to warn them."

The latest family to be killed was in Leeds, and the now orphaned student was just eleven years old. It's sick and twisted what's happening to these people, and the official reports by the Muggle police all indicate death by natural or environmental causes because there are no visible wounds. There's plenty of evidence to prove that they were murdered by magical means, though. There just aren't any leads as to who is doing the murdering.

"I just feel like putting forth a formal warning is letting the sick bastard who's doing all this win. It's acknowledging him, which, I'm sure, is exactly what he wants." Dad seems very adamant about this, but Uncle Ron isn't letting up.

"We have a duty to do everything we can to prevent anymore of these murders from happening. If that means acknowledging the crimes and satisfying the fuck by warning the families, then that's what it means. It doesn't matter, we need to do our best to prevent it from happening."

He clearly isn't budging, so Dad finally gives in. "Fine," he says dejectedly. "We'll get somebody to print something up and send it out to all the families of the Muggle-born students. We'll have to get some sort of list or something."

"That should be easy," I finally speak up, and they both look at me as though they're surprised to see that I'm still here. "I'm sure Neville can get it," I add, a little less enthusiastically.

But Dad nods, so at least they don't seem _mad _that I'm eavesdropping (though I'm not really eavesdropping at all). It's at that moment that the resident Muggle-born amongst us reenters the room and stops in front of the sofa. Both my dad and Uncle Ron are scared of Aunt Hermione, so it's not surprising that they both look like they've been caught doing something they shouldn't be doing, despite the fact that they aren't really doing anything.

"A little help in the kitchen would be nice," she says pointedly, staring down at them both. "Molly's in there trying to do everything herself."

"Hermione, tell your friend that you lied to your parents the entire time we were in school about what was going on." Uncle Ron looks at her expectantly, and she just rolls her eyes.

"I didn't _lie _to them," she says firmly. "I may have omitted a few details, but I didn't _lie."_

"No difference," Uncle Ron says dismissively, and he grabs her hand and actually yanks her down until she's sitting on the coffee table opposite them. She looks annoyed but says nothing as he continues. "Tell Harry that we can't rely on the Muggle-born students at Hogwarts warning their families about the possible danger they're in. They'll _omit _that bit of information, won't they?"

And she nods. "Somebody needs to tell their families directly."

"Thank you!" Uncle Ron says enthusiastically, throwing his hands into the air in what I guess is supposed to be triumph. "_That's _why I love you."

"Thank you?" she says, and it's more of a question than a sentiment of gratitude.

"And _you," _he says to Dad, "should listen to her because, in case you forgot, she's the smart one."

"Really?" Dad says, feigning shock. "I had no idea."

"And, oh yeah," Uncle Ron stands up and pets her ceremoniously on the head, "she's also the boss." He disappears after that, leaving Aunt Hermione to roll her eyes again as she moves to take the spot on the sofa he just abandoned.

"Seriously, though," she says calmly. "I think they really do need to know."

Dad nods. "Fine," he sighs. "I'll try to get a list of all the students, so we can contact their families."

"You haven't got anymore leads, have you?" she asks, and Dad shakes his head.

"No, nothing more than we knew after the first attack."

She looks worried, but she doesn't say anything else. Instead, she turns to me. "Have you seen Rose?"

"She took Landon outside, I think," I say, glancing towards the window to see if I can spot them. I can't.

"I hope she put a coat on him," she says, standing up and heading over toward the door. "It's freezing outside!"

I'm pretty sure she didn't put a coat on him, but I don't say this. Instead, I just shrug and offer a half-smile. She grabs her own coat and opens the door, I guess to find her kids. The brief time that she has the door open allows for plenty of cold air to flow in, and I shudder against it before the door closes behind her.

When she's gone, I turn to Dad and fidget needlessly. "D'you think there's anything I could do?" I ask awkwardly. "I mean, to help in the investigation?"

Dad shrugs, and I can tell he's tired. "Just keep an eye on all of the paperwork," he says. "Make sure it's all in order in case we need it."

Of course. Paperwork. That's all I'm good for, isn't it? I don't know when that's supposed to change- when I'm supposed to be smart enough or experienced enough to actually do something _meaningful. _It's bloody annoying, but I don't say anything. I don't want to listen to a lecture about paying my dues and working my way up like everyone else. I've heard it before, and I'm sure I'll hear it again. There's no point in bringing it up purposely, is there?

So I just nod. "Okay," I mumble. "But you'll let me know, won't you? If there's anything else?"

He nods, but he doesn't seem to be paying a whole lot of attention to me. "Sure."

"Cool." I try not to show my disappointment, and instead, I get up to go help in the kitchen. At least Nana appreciates my offers of assistance. It's nice to feel needed _somewhere. _

Sometimes I don't even know _why _I ever even applied to the Auror Academy. Most of the people I work with think I get special treatment and treat me like shit as a result, and Dad's so hell-bent on _not _showing special treatment that I get to do even less than the rest of the new Aurors (which isn't a lot to begin with). Sometimes I think I had to be mad to ever assume this would be a good idea. Clearly it's _not. _Clearly I'm doing nothing but wasting my time…

Oh, well. At least I got Elisabeth out of it…

Now if only I can think up a plan to keep her while convincing everyone else that we've broken it off. Oh, yeah. And also while keeping the whole mess hidden from the people who have the potential to make my life hell.

Meaning Dad and Rose.

Wow. Let me tell you, my life is _fantastic… _Only not.

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A/N: I hope everyone had a great holiday and got all their holiday wishes! Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter!!


	17. Rose, December 23rd

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 17

**ROSE**

**December 23****rd**

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Scorpius rents a little cottage right inside Tutshill, and it's absolutely the cutest little house you've ever seen. I don't think _cute _was necessarily what he was going for when he signed his lease, but I think it's positively adorable. It's quaint and small and like a country dream on the outside. The inside, though, is decorated a bit more to his mum's standards. There're no solid gold fixtures or marble floors, of course, but the furniture is modern and expensive, and it's quite obvious that she did most of the interior designing. He doesn't care, of course, because he's a boy, and boys don't care about things like imported Italian leather sofas or anything like that. But I do, and I have to admit, his mum has good taste.

I like his mum actually. Well, as much as it's possible to like someone who still occasionally looks at you as if you should be ironing her clothes or doing her dishes. She's getting better, though. I think she may actually think of me as an actual _person _these days, which is nice since she used to look at me like some sort of street urchin. She's quite funny actually, at least she is when she isn't being downright disgusting about someone or something she considers to be below her. And she _does _have excellent taste when it comes to things like decorating and clothes. I've been shopping with her a couple of times, and she certainly has a talent for finding the most fabulous clothes in any given store. I'm not _completely _mental about clothes, but I can appreciate nice ones... and she can certainly find nice ones!

And she can certainly find nice furniture as well.

One day, when I'm all done with school, I'll live in this cottage, and all of this furniture will be _mine. _And when we're ready to move, we can take it all with us, or, better yet, Mrs. Malfoy can buy brand new furniture (probably a lot more likely). Maybe she'll even let me help, which would be _fantastic. _

I swear, this sofa is _the _most comfortable and fabulous sofa in the entire universe, and I wish I could lie here forever and never move. I haven't moved actually, not since about eight this morning when Scorpius left for the final day of his pre-holiday training. He should be back anytime now, and when he does, I'm going to be forced to move because my need for food will win out over my need for comfort unfortunately.

I got here yesterday, a day earlier than I'd originally planned, but I couldn't take my family any longer. At least there hasn't been any bloodshed yet, but I think that's probably mostly due to the fact that Dad has decided to adopt avoidance as his method of coping with Hugo's impending infant. I suppose he was really angry, but he has apparently decided not to vocalize this anger any longer. Instead, he either leaves the room and changes the subject anytime anything related to the "situation" is brought up. Mum's actually being pretty decent about it. I suppose once she got past the initial shock and realized that there would be no "paying off," she decided to just deal with it and make the best of it. Of course, I can't imagine anything even remotely similar occurring if it were _me _instead of Hugo. She'd murder me, I'm quite sure. Oh, well. Surprise, surprise.

Hugo, contrarily, is an absolute mess, and just being in the same room with him makes me miserable. It's as though he hates life and everyone in it all of a sudden. Maria is his girlfriend now, but it's obvious that he has absolutely no interest in her whatsoever. That's just how he is, though- he always tries to do the _right _thing. I'm glad at least that he hasn't decided the _right _thing would be to marry her or anything drastic like that, but I just don't see the point in making yourself miserable over something like this. Sure, he's going to have to deal with it, but there's no law that says he has to date the girl or anything like that. It's not as if that's going to legitimize the kid or anything… Oh, well. I suppose he has only himself to blame for this mess. Still, though, I _almost _feel sorry for him.

Almost.

Scorpius shows up right on schedule, and he immediately smiles when he sees me. He _always _smiles when he sees me; it's one of the many reasons why I know he loves me. It's contagious, though, because I usually smile whenever I see him, too. I know it sounds stupid, but I don't care because I think you should smile when you're happy. And there's nothing wrong with being happy, especially when you've got a person who makes you feel that way.

"Have you even moved since I left?" he asks, coming over to sit down beside me on the oversized sofa.

I shake my head and don't sit up.

"It's nearly three o'clock," he says, glancing at the clock over his mantle. I shrug. "Some people might call that lazy…"

"_Some people," _I correct him, "are just jealous." He laughs and tugs at the cashmere throw I'm currently wrapped in, but I pull it tighter and snuggle even further down into it. "I'm _cold," _I tell him, pouting just a bit.

"You're also _whiney_," he says, though he's still smiling. He leans over and kisses me, and I can taste the salt on his lips.

"You're too sweaty," I tell him, wrinkling up my nose. "You smell like dirt."

I try to stand my ground, but when he doesn't lean back up and instead starts working on the area right under my ear, I give up. I even sigh a little sigh of contentment because when it comes right down to it, I really am just a helpless little slag. Finally, though, I get my head back on straight, and I push him back by his shoulders.

"And I'm _hungry," _I tell him pointedly.

Scorpius rolls his eyes, but then he grabs _my _shoulders and pulls me into a sitting position right along with him. "Fine," he says. "But you have to get up and get dressed while I'm in the shower."

"I'm tired." There I go with the pouting again, but it's okay because he is easily amused by my lower lip.

He smiles and takes my face in both his hands. "Rose, you haven't _done_ anything today…"

He's right, of course, but that doesn't mean I have to tell him that. I frown, but he just bumps his forehead against mine and pulls me into a standing position.

"Just give me ten minutes, okay?" Then he raises his eyebrows cheekily. "Or you could always join me if you want…"

"That would take much longer than ten minutes, and I'm _starving."_

"Fine," he says, faking dejection. "Ten minutes. Get dressed!"

Then he disappears off to the bathroom to shower while I head back to the bedroom to put on some sort of decent clothing that doesn't have the appearance of having been slept in all day. I brought a bag of clothes with me when I arrived yesterday, even though I'm sure I'll be forced to return home in a couple of days to spend Christmas with my family. In the meantime, though, I intend on spending as much time as possible here in this adorable little cottage with the expensive Italian leather sofas.

The bedroom furniture is just as exquisite as all the other furniture, and the gigantic bed with goose down duvets is just the beginning. All of the furniture is fantastic, and one day, it'll all be mine. Yes, I realize I sound completely superficial, but it's not as if I'm solely about money or anything like that. It wouldn't matter to me if Scorpius were completely poor… But still, it's nice to revel in the finer things in life once in awhile. After all, I didn't grow up with all of this, so it's fun sometimes just to get lost in the fantasy. Scorpius, on the other hand, doesn't even seem to notice any of this sort of thing, I guess because he's so completely used to it all.

I don't have to worry about dressing up at least because it's not as if there are that many fancy restaurants in Tutshill… I don't think there are any as a matter of fact, so jeans and a jumper should be just fine. I can hear the water running from the bathroom, so I assume the ten minute time limit has begun. Part of me really _does _want to take him up on the offer and join him, but a much bigger part (mainly my stomach) says that food is more important.

I get dressed lazily and then wander over the vanity to try and attempt something with my hair. Most days it's pretty much a lost cause, so I don't even know why I bother half the time. I can tell just by glancing in the mirror that the only real option for today is going to be a ponytail. Either that, or leave it down and let it go free and wild… And I'm _certainly _not about to go that route today.

When my hair is at least up and out of my face, I realize how positively dreadful I look. It's completely obvious that I've been asleep all day, and the bags under my eyes don't really do much to cover up this fact. I summon the little bag that's got my makeup and dump it out onto the top of the vanity. As the tiny containers scatter across the table top, I look down and notice the ridiculous mess he's got here. For the most part, Scorpius is generally quite clean- at least by male standards. There are some parts of his house, though, that are absolutely ridiculous and crowded with all sorts of clutter.

This vanity is one of those spots.

It's obviously his mail drop spot, as there are letters and newspapers scattered all across, not to mention a variety of other bits of paper that have little notes scribbled across them. I don't know how he expects to find anything in this mess. And since I am a good and genuinely caring girlfriend, I take the time to straighten everything up. After all, he certainly isn't going to do it himself.

And that's when I see it.

It's a letter written on expensive stationery. The broken seal that once bound the letter together is a wax M, and it isn't difficult to deduce the letter's origins. His mum or dad didn't write it, so it's pretty obvious that the only other person it might have come from is his grandfather. And I don't know why I do. I know that it's rude, and reading other people's mail is nothing more than pure nosiness. Still, though, I can't help myself, and so I open it.

_Scorpius,_

_I am sure that you're surprised to hear from me so unexpectedly. I understand your reaction, seeing as how we haven't exactly been in close touch over the past few years. The time has come, though, that we put past differences behind us and make a fresh start. You will learn, of course, that family is the most important aspect of a person's life. If you do not have a strong family bond, then you are nothing and are bound to be alone. As you are my grandson, I only wish the best for you and have no desire to see you live a lonely existence. You need your family the same as I need mine, so it is time that we make amends and move forward from here._

_I do not agree with some of the decisions and choices that you have made in your life, and I'm sure it is not difficult for you to determine to which choices I am referring. What I had initially hoped was simply a rebellious phase has apparently turned out to be quite the opposite, and I hear from your parents and other sources that you are quite set in your ways and happy with the choices that have led you to your current situation. As I advised you years ago, you are not yet mature or experienced enough to realize the full potential of the situation into which you are forcing yourself. That girl's family will never accept you as part of their own, and you are foolish to think otherwise. She lives a very charmed existence, spawned by ridiculously exaggerated tales of her parents. Her parents have never truly done anything worth mentioning, other than her mother's meddlesome ways when it comes to putting the rights of all other creatures above those of yours and mine. Personally, I don't find anything of that sort to be noteworthy, and I'm not sure why anyone else with an ounce of intelligence would, either. But you, as a member of this family, do not fit into that world, and they will never allow you to join it. You are simply wasting your time trying to be something that you are not and will never be. Your bloodline is the purest of the pure, and that alone puts you worlds above anything they have to offer. You shouldn't lower yourself to other standards simply because you believe it is the "appropriate" path to take._

_I am sure that you've heard of the recent attacks on the families of those Mudblood students at Hogwarts. These attacks shouldn't be surprising to anyone with a brain. It was only a matter of time until someone got fed up with all the propaganda that the Ministry is attempting to force down our throats. There are plenty of starstruck, brainless idiots who buy into all that filth, but anyone with the slightest bit of intelligence can see it for what it really is- the Potters and the Weasleys furthering their own agendas at the expense of all the respectable Wizarding citizens in this country. People are wise to situation, though, and they're starting to take a stand. Personally, I think it's high time that someone did something about it, and I'm glad that people are being forced to take notice of what's going on. Maybe some more people can grow a brain and realize what's really going on. If there's any justice at all in the world, they'll go straight for the top on their next attack and take out that bitch Minister. Of course, she's got the whole of the Aurors and the entire Ministry in her pocket, so I'm sure they'd put her needs and safety above those of all the remaining lesser people who aren't so-called "heroes." So perhaps it's good that all these Muggles are being killed. They aren't worth the air that they breathe, and, even further, that Mudblood at the top can spend the rest of her life trying to wash their blood from her hands._

_I tell you all of this, Scorpius, because it is important that you are well-informed about the reality of this situation and the reality of the world in which you live. You were educated at a liberal piece of shit school, and while your parents may have deemed that sort of education appropriate, I feel it is my own personal duty to make sure you know the truth. That girl is never going to let you into her world, and even if she were to try, there are far too many people with far too much power that would never allow it. You should know what you're setting yourself up for before it's too late. You need to remember where you came from and who you are. The people who truly care for you are the ones who are willing to tell you the truth, and you should always remember that._

_I hope to see you over the holidays. I know you are busy, and I am so proud of everything you are doing now with your Quidditch. You have amazing talent and could easily have your pick of any number of young women, including those that are closer to being your equal. You shouldn't sell yourself short and settle for someone just because you are comfortable. That girl you're with now is not going to be there in a few years, so there is really no point in you wasting anymore time on her than you've done already. Always remember that you are blessed with a strong pure bloodline and a multitude of wealth and privilege. Do not settle for anyone with anything less than that._

_Always,_

_Grandfather_

The last few sentences start to blur in front of my eyes, and I realize it's because they're watering. I don't exactly know _why _because it's certainly not as if I'm not used to reading horrible things about my family. There are some journalists in particular who love to report any and all stories about my family in a negative light. My mother, for example, has been called just about every possible name you could ever imagine, and people love to blame her whenever something bad happens. She does a decent job of ignoring it, and I've learned to mostly ignore it as well over the years. Still, it's difficult not to at least take a bit of offense when people spread lies and say hateful things about your family.

Especially when the person saying them is the family of the one person you trust most out of everyone in the world…

I don't even know what to think about this crap. How can one person hate someone _so _much that they would say awful things about them like this? Even wish them dead? Lucius Malfoy is evil, and there's certainly never been any question about that. After all, he all but disowned Scorpius for daring to like me, but at least he's left us alone. I don't know _what _the fuck this is about and why he's suddenly writing to Scorpius as if nothing ever happened.

"Almost ready!"

I jump at the unexpected noise and drop the letter quickly into the pile of papers that's littering the vanity. I spin around guiltily to see Scorpius rummaging through his wardrobe for something to wear. He's got a towel wrapped 'round his waist, and his hair is sopping wet and dripping all over his expensive carpet. He doesn't seem to care.

"You okay?" he asks, pulling a polo over his head and looking over at me as he continues to dig for some trousers. He hasn't got any sort of organization to his wardrobe at all, and it's quite obvious.

"Fine," I lie, blinking away any indication that there may have moments ago been tears in my eyes.

"I'm almost done," he tells me, pulling on pants and then a pair of trousers. He runs his hands through his hair a couple of times and shakes some of the excess water off.

"You're going to be cold," I tell him for no good reason, even though it's the truth. The shirt he's chosen is far too thin for December, but he is warm-natured anyway, so he probably doesn't care.

"You can keep me warm." He smiles and tosses his hair away from his face. He's started doing that lately, I've noticed. It reminds me of James.

We go to one of the few restaurant choices in the village and settle down for hot stew. It's alright, but my nana's is better. I don't really notice, though. I'm distracted all through dinner, despite the fact that Scorpius is blathering on quickly about all sorts of random topics. Most of them have to do with Quidditch, of course, and about how he's been invited to the English trials. He doesn't think he'll get the spot on the team, but he says that even going out will give him experience, which he says will be worth it. I try to pay attention, I really do, but I'm just not that interested in Quidditch to begin with, especially when I'm so distracted by the letter I found in his bedroom.

Eventually, he seems to realize that I'm not paying very close attention to him, so he stops talking for five seconds and looks at me with concern. "Are you sick?" he asks genuinely. "You don't look like you feel well."

"I'm fine," I lie for the second time in one evening. "Just tired, I suppose."

"Tired from lying on my sofa all day?" he asks, but he's teasing. I give him the best impression of a smile that I can manage, but that just makes him frown.

"Did I do something?" he asks seriously.

I shake my head and try to snap out of it. "No, really," I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster (it isn't much), "I'm fine."

He eyes me curiously for a few seconds, as if he's trying to work out whether I'm lying. When he can't come up with any proof, he offers me a small smile. "I'm really glad you came here," he says quietly, taking one of my hands in his and running his thumb across my knuckles.

"Me, too," I tell him, trying to make my voice sound as normal as possible. "You've no idea how mad things are at my house right now."

"Then you should just stay here forever," he says, smiling and showing off two rows of perfect rich boy teeth.

"Yeah, I'm sure your family would _love _that," I say, and I don't do a good job at all of disguising the sarcasm. He frowns again.

"Seriously, did I _do _something?"

God. Why am I such a bitch? I've asked myself that question so many times over the years that you would _think _I'd have come up with an answer by now. But no…

"No," I tell him honestly. "It's nothing. I'm just tired." I try to appear apologetic. "I'm sorry."

"If you're tired, we can go home," he says, and the concern is obvious all over his face as he leans forward and uses his free hand to feel first my forehead and then my cheeks. "I hope you're not getting ill…"

"Really, I'm fine," I say, and to prove it, I grab the hand currently resting on my cheek and quickly press my lips to the back of it before forcing a smile.

He studies me again, and I try my hardest to appear perfectly normal. "I don't want you to get sick," he says, and he raises a finger to call the waitress back over to our table for the bill. He barely glances at it before throwing a few notes onto the table and standing up to help me with my coat.

When we're both properly bundled, he wraps an arm around my shoulder, and we leave the restaurant. I know deep down that I am a horrible, horrible person for lying. If I were any sort of decent person, I would just tell him the truth and ask him his feelings about the letter. I'm not that brave, though. I don't want him to know that I was looking through his personal mail, and, if I'm very honest with myself, I'm a little bit afraid to _know _his feelings on the letter. Maybe he's just happy to be hearing from his grandfather. Maybe _I'm _the one being irrational because shouldn't a _good _girlfriend want her boyfriend to have a decent relationship with his family? Maybe I'm causing the gap that's there now.

I don't want to be the cause of it getting any wider…

Maybe I'm being far too optimistic to think that it's really that simple to separate blood from blood.

Maybe he feels the same way…

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A/N: Sorry to throw the wrench into the happiness! Things are about to get even crazier…. Please review!!


	18. Lily, December 25th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 18

**LILY**

**December 25****th**

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My family is… large.

Seriously, that's the only word I can think of to describe them that's even _remotely _polite. And it's the truth, of course, thanks to my mum's multitude of brothers and all their many children and their children's children… When I was little, I used to think it was sort of cool to have so many people to play with, but once I started growing up and grew out of my playing years… well, it just became bloody annoying.

Christmas is the worst, of course, because it's the one day of the year when literally _everyone _is together. We always do Christmas at the Burrow, and my family is always the first one there. This is, of course, because we only have one family. Everyone else has two. But my dad's an orphan, so we haven't got other grandparents to visit or other family to entertain on the holiday. We've just got the Burrow- one stop shopping, I suppose.

So we're there first thing, of course, or at least Mum, Dad, Al, and I are. I don't know where the hell James is- probably pissed and shacked up in some hotel room with a disgusting Quidditch groupie. Or, you know, that would be my guess if I were forced to wager one… Mum is doing a very poor job of pretending that she doesn't notice his absence as she follows Grandmum around aimlessly and tries to make herself useful. Dad does the same thing, but Grandmum shoos them both out of the kitchen, obviously realizing they're both crap at that sort of thing, so they go off to humor Granddad as he tells them some boring old man story. Al and I sit in the living room and stare at each other until finally he tells me that my hair is messed up, which at least gives me an excuse to do something. I run off to the loo to comb it, and I purposely take as long as possible in front of the mirror, hoping to pass the time a bit more quickly.

Other people are finally arriving when I come back downstairs, and even though it's none of the people I particularly care for, at least it's someone besides my boring, stupid brother. Lucy and her parents are here, but Molly is apparently still at her husband's parents' house, which means Connor's not here (and he's the only good thing about their whole family). Uncle Percy is a pompous arse, and Aunt Audrey is apparently under the assumption that I am perpetually five years old because she always speaks to me as if she's trying to explain something to retarded preschooler. Lucy is weird and certainly has nothing in common with me whatsoever, seeing as how she's possibly the homeliest person in our entire family and rarely removes her nose from whatever stupid book she's got it stuck in at any given moment. Molly is a bit more tolerable, and her husband Ross is okay, but it's not as if I'd ever willingly make a point to visit them or anything… Their baby Connor is cute, though, so at least there's that.

Uncle Charlie shows up next with some woman called _Felice _that he's apparently been dating for the past two months. Uncle Charlie is always "dating" someone, which really just means he's shagging them and ditching them when he gets tired. The girls get younger and younger the older he gets, too, which might be weird if he weren't so awesome. He's definitely one of my more preferred family members. One time when I was six, we went to visit him in Romania, and he let me actually ride on a dragon when my parents were sleeping in the hotel. He's been my secret favorite ever since then.

Uncle George comes next with Auntie Angelina and Roxie. They're definitely okay, too, and they're always entertaining if nothing else. Auntie Angelina is the prettiest of all my non-Veela aunts, and she's always got the most fantastic clothes. Uncle George, of course, is ridiculous and mad, but he always manages to make everyone laugh, and even though Nana often threatens to murder him, I kind of think he's _her _secret favorite. Roxie is cool. She's thirteen, and if she were a bit older, I'd let her in my group at school. She's not quite old enough yet, but it's okay because she's got her own little mini-group made up of the younger students. It's modeled after my own, and actually, it's quite flattering. Fred isn't with them, but I imagine he's probably pissed and shacked up with some disgusting slag the same as James.

But speaking of Veela aunts, Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur show up next. And _finally _there's Louis. Finally someone who I actually _really _like who isn't too old or too young. He looks bored out of his fucking mind when they arrive through the Floo, so I intercept him almost immediately to save him being passed around from aunt to aunt, all of whom just want to smother him in kisses.

"You got any spliff?" I ask him straight away, glancing around to make sure no one's eavesdropping.

"Course," he mutters back.

"Excellent. Come on."

We go up to Uncle Ron's old bedroom because it's all the way at the top of the house in the attic, and it's got a nice open window that easily ventilate any fumes straight into the outside. This is where we always come to smoke, and it's certainly the best place to do so.

Louis is always good for herbs that are not commonly found in Neville's greenhouse, and that's part of the reason why I like him so much. It's certainly not as if he's the _only _boy in school who has access to the goods, but he's practically the only one who doesn't expect me to give him one in return. Plus, his stuff is always really high grade, which I can definitely appreciate. I get my high grade appreciation from James who can take full credit for teaching me the difference between good spliff and bad spliff.

"So, have you heard anything from Miranda?" he asks, lighting the joint and taking the first drag. The first hit is always the best, but I don't say anything because it _is _his stuff, and I _am _smoking for free. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, right? Or something like that, I don't know…

I also don't know why he would care if I've heard from _Miranda. _"What does it matter?" I ask, taking my own first hit and slowly inhaling.

"Because," he says impatiently as he fumbles with the latch and struggles to push the window open, "I want to know if she said anything about me."

"You do know that that wasn't Miranda, right?" I ask disbelievingly. "That was Meredith."

He stops fighting with the window and looks at me open-mouthed. He bugged me for weeks before the end of term to hook him up with one of the twins, and when I finally fixed it for the ride home, he didn't even know which twin it was? Wow.

"No shit?" he asks, his eyes wide. "That was Meredith?"

"You practically shagged her on the train, Louis!" I say, shoving the joint back at him and leaning across him to successfully open the window. "You didn't notice it was Meredith?"

"I can't fucking tell them apart," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "They look exactly fucking alike."

Now I roll _my _eyes. "They do not. Meredith's got a freckle on the left side of her nose. Miranda hasn't."

"Like I can fucking remember that…"

"Stop swearing so much," I tell him, grabbing the weed and enjoying a second hit. "You're going to make my fucking ears bleed."

We smoke in silence for several minutes until I finally get my head cleared enough to get something important accomplished. I sit up straight and cross my legs in front of my like a child on a story carpet.

"We've got to get rid of Maria Martinez."

Louis looks at me confused. His eyes are bright red and horribly bloodshot. One look at him gives away the fact that he's high as fuck, and I don't know _how _we're going to pass _that _one off…

"Why? I thought Hugo likes her?" he asks, rubbing the back of his head as if he's searching for something in the crown of his hair. He's so odd. And so high.

"He's knocked her up, you idiot," I say, and I can feel my face darken as I say it. I realize immediately, of course, that I've just told a secret, but it's okay, right? Louis is family…

His bloodshot eyes widen to twice their normal size, and stunned silence surrounds us for about thirty seconds before he bursts into laughter.

"Shut up!" I hiss at him, glaring at him warningly. "You want somebody to come up here?" I look at him pointedly, and he understands. If someone comes up here, we're both fucked royally. Right up the arse.

"You're shitting me," he says, shaking his head and lowering his voice.

"Why else do you think he'd go around in public with her?" I ask, wrinkling my nose.

"She _is_ weird," he concedes.

"She's _fat," _I say flatly.

"Isn't she supposed to be fat if she's pregnant?"

I roll my eyes. "That'll just make her into an even huger cow than she already is… Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, even if Hugo doesn't know how to cover his junk up, that's no reason that he should have to go around attached to _that." _And by _that, _I obviously mean Maria Martinez.

Before Louis can even offer me any kind of assistance, though, footsteps come pounding up the stairs, and we look at each other in shock. As quickly as possible, I hide the joint and try to fan all the excess smoke and fumes out the now open window. Louis rubs at his eyes hurriedly, which, of course, only makes it worse.

But it's just Hugo. Speak of the devil.

"Christ, you scared the piss out of me," I say, tossing my hair and moving over to give him a spot to sit. "What took you so fucking long?"

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "We had to stay at my grandmother's house _forever _because she was all upset and depressed, and Mum felt bad for her. She invited her over here, but she said she didn't want to intrude…" He sighs and rolls his eyes again.

His grandfather died this past summer, so this is the first Christmas that they're having without him. I guess it must be hard on his grandmum and probably on his mum, too. When he died, they were really upset, but Hugo and Rose both dealt with it okay. Landon, even though he's young, had a harder time, but that's probably because he was used to staying over there and being with his grandparents a lot, whereas Rose and Hugo have barely seen them except for on holidays ever since they've been in school.

Of course, the mention of dead Mr. Granger sort of puts a damper on the previous mood, so we all sort of sit there awkwardly for a few minutes until Hugo decides it's an appropriate time to break the silence.

"So, are you seriously going to sit there on that and not even offer it?" He nods to the joint that I apparently suck at hiding, as it's quite visible under my knee. I pull it out and pass it over to him so that he can relight it and join in on some of the Christmas spirit.

Hugo may be a bit of a goody-two-shoes (except for the whole teenage pregnancy bit, of course), but he likes to smoke just as much as the rest of us do. His little best mate _Amanda _doesn't approve, though, so he mostly just does it while we're home or on the rare occasion that he can pry her away from him for ten or fifteen minutes.

"Did you seriously knock that girl up?" Louis asks flatly, completely ignoring any and all sorts of decency and proper etiquette. I want to kill him, of course, and Hugo stares at him in shock before glaring at me like he wants to kill _me._

"He won't tell anyone," I say quickly. _"Right, _Louis?"

Louis catches on quickly enough and shakes his head. "Oh, no," he says breezily. "You know I won't."

Hugo just rolls his eyes, and I know he probably hates me at the moment, but at least he's got something to smoke to calm him down. Him smoking himself into quite an inebriated state is actually a part of the plan that will make everything much smoother. Or at least I hope so. I'm nothing if not blunt, so I just go straight to it.

"Just because she's pregnant doesn't mean you have to go 'round holding her hand acting like she's your girlfriend."

Hugo inhales slowly and then meets my eyes. "She _is _my girlfriend…" But he honestly seems confused, and it sounds more like a question than a statement.

"You don't even like her." He doesn't contradict me, but his eyes are dark, and I can tell he's certainly not very happy. "You're just wasting your time."

"She's nice," he says quietly, as though that makes up for all her other sins of being weird, dull, and chubby.

"I'll find you someone better. You think Lucy's cute, don't you?"

He doesn't say anything, and I can tell that he isn't really too pleased to be having this conversation. He isn't making any effort at all to share the spliff now, and his whole face looks dark and depressed.

"Just leave it alone, Lily," he says, and that's that. He's hiding something, of course, but he certainly isn't going to spill all the details to me right now. Or maybe ever. After all, I don't know exactly how much he trusts me these days. It's fine, though. I have a habit of _always _finding out what I need.

I'll get it all out of him eventually, it's just a matter of time.

They finally call us downstairs for presents, which means everyone has finally arrived. Or at least everyone who is coming. Molly and Ross have finally arrived, which means Connor is here, and he looks adorable all dressed up in a bright green jumper. Dominique has arrived somewhere along the way with her fiancé Jack. And James and Fred have both shown up, both of them very obviously hung-over. Charlotte, I notice, is _not _here, which means that either she and James have had a falling out or that James has made up some lie to ditch her for the day. She's usually attached right behind him, so it's strange to see that she's not here on Christmas. Another glaringly obvious absentee is Teddy who apparently no longer finds it acceptable to attend or feels welcome at Weasley family holiday celebrations. Never mind, of course, that he's spent every Christmas here for every year of his entire life. Vic is here with the girls, but she looks pissed off and is clearly here under obligation and nothing more.

The only people who seem even remotely excited about presents are the little kids. Landon and Dora are the most excited, probably because they're the oldest- Maddie and Connor are both still a bit too young to _really _understand at first, though, of course, they love opening the gifts once they receive them. The rest of us go through the motions of unwrapping the presents, pretending to be impressed, and thanking the gift-giver. Personally, I don't find anything too particularly thrilling about hand-knitted jumpers and ugly gloves and books. My parents are the ones who buy me all the things that I _really _want, and we already opened all _those _gifts last night at home. My cousins and I all draw names each year and manage to only buy one gift each. Occasionally those gifts will turn out to be alright, depending on the cousin who draws your name. Lucy drew my name this year, unfortunately, so I open a leather-bound day planner. I am not impressed.

Christmas dinner is the only part of the day that's even semi-exciting because if there's one thing my grandmothercan do well, it's cook a gigantic meal. I don't know how she manages to do all of it by herself, but I imagine quite a bit of it comes from the fact that she spent her entire adult life feeding a husband and seven children. She feeds a lot more than that now, but I guess it's easier to expand when you're already used to cooking for a large number of people on a regular basis.

Most people seem fairly happy and in relatively good moods. There're a few exceptions, of course. Vic looks positively miserable and is drinking far more wine than anyone else. Fred and James both look like they need coffee rather than a large meal. Aunt Hermione looks a bit down, I'm sure because she's depressed over her father. And Rose, for some reason, looks as if she'll burst into tears at any given second. I don't know what that's about, but I don't really know what reason she would _have _to look so miserable. She's off on her own, living far enough away from her parents to not have to be checked up on, and she's got a boyfriend with a _great _career who is positively head of heels for her. If you ask me, she's quite lucky. Of course, no one really does ask me, so I don't even know why I should be forced to even feign interest.

I'm ready to go by the time dinner's finished, but there's absolutely no way I'll be able to manage that. Instead, I decide to be nosy and track Rose down. It isn't difficult, seeing as how she's sitting all by herself at the bottom of the stairs, looking aimlessly into the air in front of her.

"You okay?" I ask, dropping down onto the step beside her. She looks over at me and seems to snap out of her daze.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she says, shrugging. I can definitely tell she's not fine.

"Hugo said your grandmum isn't doing very well," I say, trying to be a tiny bit sympathetic so that she will trust me and fill me in on whatever's got her so miserable. Catering to someone's emotions isn't necessarily a _bad _thing, especially when it makes gossip more easily accessible.

She shrugs again. "She's okay. Mum's kind of a mess…"

I've noticed. Currently, she's curled up on the sofa between my dad and Uncle Ron. They're both talking quietly to her, and she nods every once in awhile to give some sort of indication that she's alive and listening. Uncle Ron's playing with her hair, and he and Dad keep sharing those silent private looks behind her head. Sometimes I wonder if I'll even _know _any of my current friends when I'm old. Those three are the closest people I've ever seen in my life, and sometimes I wonder how it's even possible to have friends that real.

"Do you ever feel like we're just all ungrateful brats?"

The question comes out of nowhere, and I look over at Rose who is staring at the same scenario I just was- the one where her mum is tucked between our dads and being quietly comforted by them.

"Huh?" I ask because I've got no idea where she's going with that…

She frowns and doesn't say anything for a second. Then she sighs and finally looks over at me. "Think of all the stuff our parents have done. What have _we _done?"

I raise my eyebrows, but she carries right on and barely pauses.

"When they were our age, they weren't just sitting on their arses acting like kids. They were fighting a war and starting serious careers. And what do we do?"

I pick at my nail varnish and then look back up when I realize that she isn't asking a rhetorical question. "What does it matter?" I ask, trying not to sound as bitchy as I know I'm being. "There's nothing for us _to _do. It's not our fault, all that shit happened when they were kids."

She looks at me like I'm mad, which actually isn't all that unusual. "People are _dying, _Lily," she says pointedly. "People at _your school _are having their families murdered. Don't you pay attention to the news at all?"

I shrug. Of course I know about the Muggle killings, but what's that got to do with me? I'm not Muggle-born. No one's going to run about killing _my _family over blood. So honestly, what should it matter to me? I mean, yes, of course, it sucks for those people, but it's nothing to do with me. Or Rose for that matter. And I tell her that.

"Yeah, it's awful," I say, flipping some hair out of my face. "But there's nothing we can do about it, and it really hasn't got anything to do with us to begin with, does it?"

Apparently this is the wrong answer because Rose rolls her eyes and now looks pissed off. "That's _exactly _what I'm talking about," she says darkly.

I don't even ask. I don't want to know. If the Muggle murders are the reason that she's in such a poor mood, then I'm sorely disappointed because that's not even gossip-worthy. I change the subject.

"So what did Scorpius get you for Christmas?"

Her face goes from pissed off to slightly sad. Aha! "I haven't seen him today," she says quietly. "He's with his family."

So she's sad because she hasn't seen him? Or she's sad because they're on the outs? Hmm…

"Are you going over there tonight?"

She shrugs. "I dunno, I might hang out with Mum."

Rose is weird now. Seriously. I don't know _what _Ireland's done to her, but it's certainly changed her. She used to be a serious bitch, and now she's all semi-nice and crap, and I'm not sure I like it. Of course, I didn't particularly care for her before, but at least when she was a raging bitch, I could find something to argue with her about. Now she's just boring.

I sigh and stand up. "Okay. Well, see you then. I'm going to go see if Hugo and Louis are around."

She doesn't say anything, just goes back to staring blindly at the back of our parents' heads. So weird.

Oh, well. No good gossip there.

At least there's still good durgs…

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A/N: Happy New Year! Just so everyone knows, we'll get at least one more Christmas point of view (maybe two, haven't decided yet). Hope everyone's having a wonderful 2009 so far and many thanks for all the reviews and support!!


	19. James, December 25th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 19

**JAMES**

**December 25****th**

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Mum tried to convince me to come back home after we left the Burrow because she said we needed some "family time." She wasn't very successful, considering she managed to get Dad and Lily home and that was it. She's lucky she even got Lily… The only reason she even swung that one is because Lily hasn't got anywhere else to go.

Personally, I can wait to get _away _from family by the time we're finished with Christmas dinner. My flat is much nicer and posher than anything that my mum's old childhood country house has got to offer. Not to mention, of course, that it is _world's _quieter and hasn't got fifty million people talking or little kids running around and screaming. Seriously, I hate kids. Why anyone would ever think that breeding the little snot-nosed bastards would be a good idea is beyond me.

So anyway, escaping to the quiet and privacy of my own flat? Definitely the best idea.

And it's warm and silent and utterly fantastic when I finally Apparate there. Maggie's away with her family on holiday, and Charlotte, I'm quite sure, is still royally hacked off at me. So there's no one around. Just me. And it's great. I grab a bottle of Ogden's from the kitchen and bring it into the sitting room with me. I'm sure there's absolutely nothing on the telly Christmas night, but I switch it on anyway and fall onto the sofa carelessly. There's some program about starving children in Africa and how we should all remember those less fortunate during this holiday season. I've had enough of children for one day, so I flip to the next channel and see some Christmas film that must have been made in the 1800s or something, as it's black and white and has terrible clothing. I'm too lazy to keep flipping, so I leave it and start drinking the whiskey straight out of the bottle.

I'm still a bit pissed from last night, truth be told, but the best way to get rid of a lingering hangover is to drink it away, right? It certainly seems to be working. Last night, honestly, I probably actually really _did _drink too much, but what else was I supposed to do? I had to do _something _to get away from the constant bitching and nagging of the woman who calls herself my girlfriend. I swear, sometimes I seriously wish she'd fall off a bridge or something. I don't know how I ever got myself into this mess of where I have to actually make an effort to include a girl in my plans. So what if she's hot? There are plenty of hot women out there who don't expect to be involved and included in each individual second of your life, right?

She got mad because… well, honestly, I don't know why. I can't imagine any reason why she would _want _to go over to my parents' house on Christmas Eve. It's not even as if my parents are great cooks or anything. I could sort of understand if she wanted to attend Christmas dinner (though it'd still be a stretch for me…), but the only thing that happens at my parents' house on Christmas Eve is gifts. And there was no point in her being there.

So she got pissed off.

And she started bitching and even yelling, saying how I'm a horrible boyfriend and how I don't pay any attention to her and how everything I do revolves around Quidditch or getting pissed with the lads and how I haven't got any time for her and how she's not important and how she puts way more effort into this "relationship" (and yes, she used air quotes) and how I'm lucky to have her because she could be with any man she wants and how maybe if I don't start realizing that, she'll go off and _find _somebody else and then I'll see what I'm missing.

And then I tuned her out.

Yes, I know, it's the largest sin that a man can commit. But while Charlotte was turning herself blue in the face screeching at me, I walked out of the room, went into the kitchen, and got a drink. Well, what the fuck else was I supposed to do? It's not like I told her to shut up or tried to contradict her even. I was just sick of hearing her, so I thought a bit of liquor might help.

Trust me, that was the _wrong _thing to do.

If I thought what she was doing beforehand was shouting, I was miserably mistaken. She may as well have been whispering compared to the roaring she started in with when she followed me into the kitchen. She told me that I was a "stuck up, spoiled, lazy, stupid, inconsiderate, idiotic, self-centered, childish, horrible wanker," and then she made a huge scene of leaving my flat. She didn't just Diapparate like a normal person because that would have been too calm and quiet and, I dunno, _sane. _No, she had to stomp out with the sole purpose of slamming my door so loudly that one of the pictures on my wall actually fell to the ground and broke. It's still there now, of course, as I'm too lazy to deal with that sort of thing, and Maggie won't be back until Monday.

So I went to my mum and dad's house and did the gift-opening thing there, and then I left to find Fred so that we could go get pissed and, possibly, get laid. It worked, of course, because it always works. It isn't difficult to find women who want to sleep with you when you're a world-famous Quidditch player, especially when your last name is Potter. It's quite easy actually, and I enjoy it quite a bit. I understand that cheating is bad and all of that, but I don't really care too much about what's good and bad or what's right and wrong. You only get one life, right? You may as well live it to the fullest extent.

So that was last night, and now here I am, drinking again, though this time alone and in the privacy of my own living room. It's nice really. Maybe Charlotte'll hate me so much that she'll decide she wants to break it off with me. That would be lovely. It would save me the trouble, and I'm not especially good at breaking things off because I don't have much experience with so-called _real _relationships. It'd be much better if she just got fed up enough and did it for me.

I drink almost half the bottle of firewhiskey before I realize how completely _drunk _I really am. I'm quite good at holding my alcohol, but, of course, there's always a point where I drink too much and turn positively wonky. It comes on sort of fast tonight, and I feel lightheaded looking up at the ceiling. The film that was on TV has apparently finished without my noticing, as the evening news has started.

God.

How did my life turn into this? Why do I even _have _a girlfriend? Especially one as naggy and bitchy as _that? _I should have learned my lesson a long time ago that girlfriends always end in trouble. I should have learned that after bloody _Kate, _for Christ's sake. If there were ever a warning sign that relationships only cause trouble, it should have been _that. _I was eighteen fucking years old, but I was old enough to realize that girls can do one of two things- they can suck you off and make you happy or they can suck the _soul _out of you and make you miserable.

The ones you label girlfriend most definitely always do the latter.

Granted, Kate didn't suck the soul out of me in the same way that Charlotte or any of the other girls I've dated have. Those girls are naggy and annoying and get on my bloody nerves. Kate, on the other hand, didn't get on my nerves at all. She was rarely naggy and never really annoying… but she sucked my soul out and did something far worse than any of those other girls ever did. She _hurt _me.

Yes, I'm a fucking sap. I may as well grow a vagina, but I can't help it. She really did get to me, and it hurt a whole hell of a fucking _lot _when she dumped me. I still don't even know _why _she did it. I was trying to be different for her, different from the way I was anyway, but that wasn't enough for her. She wanted me to be some kind of sodding saint or something, and I'm just not. I'm not a saint, and I never will be. And it wasn't fair of her to expect that I would be. It certainly wasn't enough of an excuse to go and do that to me. I was in _love _with her, and she couldn't just let that be enough.

I want to know _why_.

I should go ask her.

Yes, I should go over to her flat right now and ask her why the hell she thought it was appropriate to do that to me. After all, she saw fit to bring herself back to London and show back up in my life all unannounced. She should at least be required to give me some sort of explanation. I mean, I was doing fine before she showed back up. I didn't _love _Charlotte, but at least she was enough- well, her and the other girls I saw on the side anyway… I didn't go 'round making myself miserable and drinking myself into a stupor trying to figure out why any of _them _ever hurt me, did I? No. I didn't. I just had fun and lived life for what it was.

And I was _fine._

And now I'm miserable all over again, and it's all her fault. All Kate's fault. So yeah, I should go right over there and demand an explanation. If Fred or any of my mates were here, they'd tell me not to do it. They'd say it's not worth it and that I should just cut my losses and go. I shouldn't spend this much time or effort worrying about some fucking _girl. _But none of them are here. So I don't have anyone to tell me that it's a bad idea. I've just got a heavily-inebriated brain telling me that she _owes _me this.

So I go.

I know exactly where she lives because she told me. I see her quite a bit lately, considering the fact that she handles all of my finances and all that bit. She's as evil as ever, too, always waving her perfect little arse in my face and smelling like freshly cut apples. And she practically _begs _me with her eyes to fuck her. It's obvious that she's as hard up for me as I am for her, but she's so awful that she'd never admit it. She doesn't like to tell the truth.

But she's going to tell me some truth tonight, that's for damn sure.

I Apparate right outside her flat, not bothering to find an alleyway or anything like that. I honestly don't care if anyone sees me. I'm too drunk to pretend like it matters. I'm too drunk for anything really, but who cares? I know this is the right building, and it isn't difficult to find which flat belongs to her, considering the fact that no one else in the universe would have a handmade bright blue painted handle on their door.

I bang on the door loudly, and again, I don't care if someone hears or if I offend any of her neighbors. In fact, I _hope _they hear me. Then they can know exactly what a evil, heart-breaking woman she is. She doesn't immediately answer, so I bang again, this time even louder. And then I hear the latch turning from the inside. She slides the viewer open, sees me, and then undoes the chain.

"What the bloody _hell _are you doing?" she hisses as she opens the door open just enough to place herself into the gap and glare at me. She looks gorgeous, of course, in the shorts, t-shirt, and mismatched socks she apparently plans on wearing to bed. I want to grab her and kiss the crap out of her, but I don't. I came here with a mission, and I'm going to accomplish it.

"Why did you do it?" I demand, my voice hard and even. "Why did you go and _hurt _me like that?"

She stares at me, her bright blue eyes cutting into mine sharply. After thirty seconds of silence, she says, "You're fucking _insane." _

And then she tries to close the door. I stop her, of course, putting a foot out and successfully halting all of her efforts. She glares at me, and I take that as cue to go on.

"You owe me an answer," I say flatly.

"I don't owe you _anything," _she shoots back, trying again to shut the door, but all the shoving in the world won't budge it. "Go _away."_

"Let me in," I say, never breaking eye-contact.

"Absolutely not. Go away before I call the police."

I snort. "Yeah, right. I'd Disapparate before they got here, and then you'd look like a loon."

"Then I'll… I'll call the Aurors," she says defiantly. "And they can track you down."

"Oh, sure," I roll my eyes. "Do you even _know _who my father is?"

She looks like she wants to murder me, and it's fucking _hot. _I need to keep focused, though.

"Go _away, _James," she says warningly. "I'm not joking."

"Let me in."

"No."

"Let me in."

"Leave me _alone." _

"Let me in. Then after we talk, I'll leave you alone." I don't once let my eyes break contact with hers, but my voice stays low and even.

She finally rolls her eyes and gives in. "_Fine! _You've got five minutes."

She opens the door, and I walk right into her flat. It's exactly how I would have always imagined a flat of hers would look. It's quite modern with lots of eclectic styles and colors. It's completely random and mental. Just like her.

"Why did you do it?" I ask again, turning around to look at her as she closes the door.

She isn't happy in the least; in fact, she's _quite _annoyed with me, that much is obvious. She glares at me again and walks right past me and into her kitchen. She ignores me completely.

"Why did you dump me like that?" I ask, following her, and yes, I'm very well aware of the fact that I'm coming across as some creepy stalker. I don't care, though. It's been four years, and I want a damn explanation already.

"Why did I dump you?" She laughs, an evil, sarcastic laugh. "Are you serious, James?"

"Yes."

"That was four _years _ago," she says in a tone that clearly tells me she thinks I'm insane. I don't care.

"So you've had plenty of time to come up with a reason," I snap, and I don't care how rude I sound.

She ignores me and goes about putting the kettle on.

"I asked you a question, and I want an answer," I go on. "I _deserve _that."

A sneering smirk twitches at her lips, and she shakes her head in disbelief. "Oh, you deserve plenty of things, but an explanation isn't one of them."

She goes back to the stove, but I grab her arm and halt her tea-making efforts. "Tell me."

"Let go of me," she says seriously, and her eyes narrow in what almost looks like hate. I wonder for a brief second if she's frightened of me. She's very small and vulnerable. I kind of wish she _were _afraid, but I'm sure she knows I'd never touch her.

I let go of her arm, but I don't move. And with the way we're standing, she's got nowhere else to go. I lean my face down close to hers and tell her what I should have told her four years ago. "You _hurt _me."

"You're drunk." It's a flat statement, and she looks at me with a powerful sort of defiant look. She can't walk away from me, and she's got no choice but to acknowledge me. So it's not surprising that she chooses such a blatant statement to make.

"I'm always fucking drunk," I tell her, my voice dropping significantly in our close proximity. "You've known me for…" I try to work it out in my head, but maths was never my thing, "… a long fucking time," I finish. "Why would that surprise me?"

"It doesn't. Maybe that's the problem." Her eyes narrow even more. "Maybe that was _always _the problem."

"You dumped me because I drink?"

"No, I dumped you because you're a self-centered prick who can't take anything seriously! You've never been able to take anything seriously. You never took _me _seriously!"

"I never took you _seriously?!" _I ask, and I'm really, truly shocked. "Are you mental?! I was in _love _with you!" It slips out before I can stop it, but I don't really care. It's not as if she's never heard it before. She's just never cared.

She's angry now, but so what? "When are you going to learn that just because you go around saying things, it doesn't make them true?" she snaps. "You're too in love with yourself to _ever _love someone else!"

"I was in love with _you," _I repeat angrily.

"No, you weren't."

"Yes, I was."

"_No, _you weren't."

"_Yes, _I was."

And then it happens.

She lunges forward out of nowhere and kisses me. I can't breathe at all because she grabs my face in her hands and presses her mouth so tightly against mine that I haven't got a chance to even think, much less to do anything else. So I stand there stunned until she finally lets go of me with nearly as much power as she first grabbed me.

And then we just stare at each other. Her cheeks flush this brilliant shade of pink, and her eyes turn to a darker shade of blue. She looks horrified at herself, and I can't say I'm much surprised. I can imagine that the impromptu kiss came as much of a shock to her as it did to me. I don't know what just happened, and I'm sure my lack of knowledge is more than obvious on my face.

"You should go," she finally says, her eyes darting away from mine in embarrassment. "It's been five minutes." And she says it so quietly that I barely hear her. It doesn't matter anyway, though, because there's no _way _I'm leaving now.

I don't think anymore.

I just grab her and kiss her and with one single step, she's backed up against the wall completely. And she's apparently quite a bit better at reacting than I am because she actually kisses me back. My hands are on her face, and hers find their way to the back of my head. And seriously, it feels as if she's trying to pull me closer than is humanly possible, but I don't care one bit. This kiss is definitely different from the last. It's two-sided for one, and my mind goes blissfully blank of everything else except for this and her and right now.

And it's fantastic, of course. Kissing her has always been fantastic. I can't imagine how it's possible to ever kiss anyone else and it be this fantastic. And trust me, I've kissed quite a few girls… But Kate was always the best, and it's amazing that she's _still _the best all these years later. It's exactly the same, only better because I can tell she's really hacked off at me, and I'm not too pleased with her, either. But that just makes it hotter, and I'm definitely having trouble thinking straight. Not that it matters, of course, because _this _is second nature to me.

Finally, when we both have to breathe, we stand there not quite looking at each other and breathing heavily. We don't say anything for awhile, but I'm still close enough to where I can smell her. She must've just had a bath because she smells like fresh soap, and I want to just force my face into her neck and maybe never smell anything else as long as I live.

"Do you still want me to leave?" I ask finally, lowering my head down to her ear and pretty much whispering the words because I don't have the breath to say them any louder.

She shakes her head. I'm glad that I can't see her eyes because I can sense how tense she is just by standing this close to her- I don't want to see that on her face. She's terrified, and maybe I don't blame her. Maybe I'm terrified, too, not that I'd admit it, of course, but this is the one person in the world who's ever had the power to make me actually _feel _something. And no matter who you are, that's a terrifying thought.

"Then tell me," I whisper, and all I can hear is her ragged, nervous breathing. "Tell me you want me to stay…"

It takes her a second, but she finally manages it. "I want… I want you to stay…"

And then she turns her head, and I finally look at her face. She really _does _look scared and kind of like she might suddenly start crying or something. She looks sad and confused and a little bit desperate. And then it hits me out of nowhere.

She's got a fiancé.

She's getting _married. _To someone who is definitely not me. And yet, here we are in her kitchen, and she kissed me. And I kissed her. And she wants me to stay. But it all feels so… _wrong._

"I need to go," I say suddenly, backing up a bit and trying to get my thoughts straight. I really wish I hadn't drunk so much… It really fucks up your ability to think coherently, doesn't it?

She looks at me, and I see all the surprise right there in her eyes. "What?" she asks, confused. "Why? I thought…" Her voice trails off, and she runs a hand awkwardly down the length of her hair. I liked it much better short.

"You're engaged," I say flatly. "You shouldn't cheat."

The look of confusion seems to heighten for half a second, and then she shakes her head. "Seriously?" she asks, and the same sardonic little laugh that I know isn't amused at all. "_You're _telling me _I _shouldn't cheat? You have a girlfriend!"

I shrug. "So? I cheat on her all the time."

This isn't the right thing to say because Kate immediately looks at me with the same evil look she was giving me a few minutes ago. "Lovely," she mutters sarcastically.

I don't care. I shrug again, this time almost challengingly. "I've cheated on every girlfriend I've ever had."

Her entire face darkens. "Even better."

"Except one," I say pointedly, and I stare at her, daring her to contradict me.

She doesn't. Instead, she just rolls her eyes. "Well, how lovely for her," she sneers. "I'm sure she's positively _thrilled."_

I don't say anything. I just look at her, and she looks back. And then finally, she crosses her arms over her chest and huffs a little bit. "Why did you come here?"

"To see you." I can't remember the real reason. It doesn't matter anyway.

"Get out." Her voice is entirely serious, and her eyes are dark and dull.

I don't know why it doesn't cross my mind to argue with her, to stand there and _beg _her to call it off with her fiancé. Maybe it's because I know I wouldn't be good for her. I obviously wasn't good for her when I was eighteen, and I certainly wouldn't be now. If she's got somebody who she likes, then she should be with him. If it makes her happy anyway. Because she deserves to be happy.

So that's why I just go.

I don't say anything, I just grab my wand and Disapparate right out of there. I can't take it anymore anyway. I can't take being around here, especially after all that. I want her so fucking _badly, _I can't stand it.

God. I need a cold shower.

Merry fucking Christmas.

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A/N: There's the second Christmas POV! Hope everyone is having a good weekend. Thanks for reading, please review!!


	20. Scorpius, December 25th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 20

**SCORPIUS**

**December 24****th**

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It's nearly midnight when Rose finally shows up.

I've been done with all my mandatory family holiday excursions since about seven, and I can't imagine why hers have taken so long. I suppose she has a much larger family, and since my consists of no one but me, my parents, my grandparents, and my mother's sister, I probably can't relate. Still, though, I was beginning to think she wasn't going to come.

She looks exhausted when she finally Apparates in, and I can easily tell that she's been crying. Her cheeks are blotchy, and her hair is in complete disarray. I get up and go over to her to bring her back over to the sofa. We sit down carefully, and I put an arm around her while I push some hair out of her face.

"What's wrong?" I ask quietly, looking over at her as she stares miserably into the air in front of her.

"My mum's really upset," she sniffs. She isn't crying at the moment, but with the look on her face, I wouldn't be surprised if she burst into tears at any given second.

"About what?" I ask, not wanting to upset her further but also wanting to find out what's going on. "Did something happen?"

Rose shakes her head. "No, she's upset about her dad. And my grandmother is, too. They're both miserable."

Oh. So it's to do with her grandfather. That's not as bad as I'd initially feared. Rose dealt with her grandfather's death pretty well when it happened, but I know from experience that it's worth watching your parents deal with something like that than it is dealing with it yourself. My mother's parents both died within six months of each other two years ago. She was a wreck over it, and while I was obviously upset by it, too, it was much worse just watching her go through it.

"I'm sorry," I say honestly, and she leans back further into the arm I've got around her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

She nods, but she still looks awful. "I just feel bad about leaving her."

"Maybe you should go back then?" I say it because it seems like the right thing to say. I don't want her to leave, though. I've been waiting to see her all day.

But Rose shakes her head. "No, she went to bed. And Dad's there. And my brothers."

I nod. I don't know what else to say because what is there to say? I hate moments like this when you know that anything you do or say isn't going to mean anything. I could keep saying, "I'm sorry," or I could make her a cup of tea. It wouldn't matter.

So I just sit there with my arm around her, and we just exist in pure silence for a little while. It's nice actually. I still feel a bit useless, but I'm pretty sure this is just what she needs right now.

Finally, she turns her head slightly and says, "How was your Christmas?"

I shrug. "It was okay. Long."

And that's that. There's nothing more to say because it's not as if I can sit there and tell her that my grandfather called her mother a "disgusting Mudblood cunt" or that he told me I should put as much distance as possible between myself and her family because when the time came, they were all going to fall and I didn't want to be "left amongst the rubble." I can't tell her that he spent the entire afternoon telling me about every possible _acceptable _mate for me that he knew of. I can't tell her that he said she was nothing but a "gold-digging little whore" who was using me because of my trust fund. And I also can't tell her that I nearly punched him then and was stopped only because my mother pulled me down and then decided we should have a walk.

"Don't pay him any mind, love," she said breezily as we walked through the back gardens aimlessly. "He's just an old man set in his ways. Just let it go in one ear and out the other."

"That doesn't give him an excuse," I said, so angry by that point that I really couldn't see straight. "He can't _say _things like that!"

"I know," she said soothingly, rubbing absent-minded circles on my back. "But just ignore it. Please? Let's just keep the peace."

My mother has done things a lot lately for the sake of "keeping the peace." I think it's bollocks, but I didn't want to upset her. Instead, I just bit my tongue and said, "Fine. But if he ever calls her a whore again, I'll leave and I won't ever come back."

And I wasn't lying.

My grandfather's got plenty to say lately, most of which I have no interest in hearing. Up until now, he's probably not said more than ten words total to me in the past four years. He has ignored me. Even when we were sitting at the same dinner table- he ignored me. So now that he suddenly wants to start talking again, I'm not automatically going to listen to whatever hate-filled crap he has to spew. And I'm certainly not going to listen to him say horrible things about Rose. So if I have to turn my back on him and leave for good, I will. And that's what I told my mother.

"Mine was loud," Rose says out of nowhere. "And crowded." She's referencing her Christmas, and I smile a little bit above her head because it's such a very Rose-like thing to say. She's got several adjectives when it comes to describing her family, but loud and crowded are two of the most common.

"Was it fun?"

She shrugs. "It was alright." A beat passes, and then she says, "Landon threw up Christmas ham."

"Gross."

She laughs a little bit, and I look down to see that she's apparently at least amused over something. That's a change. "Yeah. In Uncle Harry's lap."

"That's disgusting."

"I know." She smirks. "That's why I love him."

"That's all it takes for you to love someone?" I raise my eyebrows. "They've got to puke on someone?"

"Yep." She's still smiling.

"Well, I wish I'd known that a long time ago…"

She thumps me, and we both laugh a little. And then she settles back into my arm, and we sit in silence for a bit. It's nice and comfortable. But when she starts talking again, I'm not entirely sure where she's coming from.

"I don't think I want to go back to school." She says it out of nowhere, and I don't know what she's on about. I look down at the top of her head, but she's got it turned down, so I can't see her face.

"What're you talking about?" I ask.

She doesn't say anything right away, sort of like she's getting her thoughts together.

Eventually, she does start talking again, and I'm not entirely sure what's got into her. She seems distant and even a bit confused. She almost sounds as if _she's_ not even quite positive what she's trying to get across.

"I don't think it's something very important… At least right now… I just, I just want to do something important…"

"I don't understand."

She frowns. "I want to have a purpose."

"You don't think you've got a purpose? You're studying to be able to save people's lives."

"My parents actually had a _real _purpose," she says enthusiastically. "They actually _did _something!"

"It's not your fault that you weren't even alive during all of that," I tell, and I'm just trying to be reasonable. She doesn't want reasonable, though; that much is obvious.

"Well, there's plenty of things happening now, and I'm sitting on my arse doing nothing, aren't I?"

"You're in school."

"And?"

"And that's really important," I say, still trying to reason with her. "It's a big accomplishment to get into the academy, and you're top of your class and are going to have an amazing career someday."

As nice as I may have thought I was being, apparently, I was sadly mistaken. Rose rolls her eyes and looks at me as if maybe I really am as stupid as I feel next to her sometimes.

"Anybody can get good grades and get in there if they actually make an effort. That doesn't mean it's making any difference to the world, does it?"

"Rose, what exactly do you plan to do?" I ask carefully, not quite sure I even want to know.

"I don't know. But I have to do something. People are dying!"

"What people?"

"The Muggles!" she says, exasperated. "The Muggle-borns at Hogwarts- their families."

Oh. So _that's _what this is about? I raise an eyebrow at her and have a sinking feeling that I'm treading onto unsteady territory. "Do you even know any of those people?"

That's the _wrong _response.

Rose sits all the way up and turns around to look at me incredulously. "What does it _matter?" _she asks hotly. "It _matters _because people are getting killed over something as stupid as _blood! _If my parents stood by and said '_what does it matter?' _when they were kids, I wouldn't even have been born. Because my mother would have been dead!"

"Rose-"

She isn't going to let me speak, though. She's off on a roll, and I know from far too much experience that there really is no stopping her once she gets something in her head.

"Do you have any idea how much people had to sacrifice back then?" she asks quickly. "Do you have any idea how many people _died _just so I could be _born?!"_

I don't even try to say anything then. I just look at her. Her face is very red, as it is often is when she's excited. And the corners of her eyes are wet again. She isn't crying, but she doesn't look far from it. A long beat of silence passes, and then she starts speaking again, this time with a slightly more controlled voice.

"I have an uncle who I never got to meet. Because he died when he was _my age. _And Teddy… he's an _orphan _because of all that shit. His parents sacrificed _everything _so that he could grow up in a better place." She pauses for a second. "And so did _my _parents. They gave up their entire childhood and went off to fight a war when they were just _kids."_

"But Rose," I say gently, finally getting a chance to speak. "You can't help any of that. You don't have to give up _your _dream to try and live up to something your parents did…"

"My dream?" She shakes her head. "I don't know _what _my dream is, but I don't think working in a hospital for the rest of my life is it."

I don't know where it's coming from. She's wanted to be a Healer for years, and now all of a sudden, she says it's _not _what she wants? I have no idea.

"I just have to do something," she says seriously. "Something worthwhile. Otherwise, everything my parents and everyone else went through was in vain."

"How can you say it's in vain?"

But Rose actually smiles at this, though it's certainly not a happy sort of smile- it's more of a slightly upturned grimace. "Do you really think my parents and my uncle hid out in the middle of the woods from Death Eaters and went for weeks on end without real meals or showers so that we could all be like this? Do you think that for even one _second, _they thought, _'Wow, someday we can have a great big lot of spoilt, pretentious bastards for kids who all use our names to get everything they want?'" _She rolls her eyes and shakes her head again. "I doubt it. They didn't do all of that so that James could be an alcoholic, self-centered, narcissistic prick. Or so Al could be a self-righteous, judgmental arsehole. Or so Lily could be a vain, stuck up, cruel little bitch. Or so Hugo could get some girl pregnant at seventeen. Or so I could be a bratty, lazy bint who does absolutely _nothing_ worthwhile whatsoever."

I notice that she leaves Landon out of her rant, either because he's six or because she plays obvious favorites. Regardless, the point she was trying to make is crystal clear. It just doesn't make any sense. Where is all of it coming from? So I ask.

"But where is all this coming from? You've known who your parents are your whole life. Why this all of a sudden?"

Rose looks exhausted. "I've known my whole life," she says slowly. "And yet, my whole life… I've blamed my parents for anything that's _ever _gone wrong."

This is true. Or at least to the extent that I've known her. She does have a tendency to push the blame onto them and cite their shortcomings rather easily. But still.

"You don't know some of the things I've said about them," she says quietly. "And _to _them even… Some of it's been horrible."

She has a slightly sick look on her face, and her voice is much lower. Of course, I don't know specifically to what she's referring, but I do know that she has accused them of being inattentive and unconcerned for her. When we were twelve years old, she went missing for a whole summer, and her biggest secret in the world is that she blames her parents for all of it. Or at least she used to. She landed in therapy for it even, and she spent years with a Psychological Healer who tried to convince her that her parents did _not _purposely allow her to be kidnapped, nor did they have another child to replace her. Sometimes, I still don't think she's entirely convinced.

"And all they ever did was try to give me a good life," she finishes finally. "They gave us everything we ever wanted practically, and they've always been there for us. And they would have sacrificed _anything. _And still, all I can do is blame them for shit that's my own fault."

I don't know what to say to that, so I try to go the sympathetic route. "But you were just a kid…"

She glares a little bit, a horrid, mean glare. "When my _parents _were just kids, they had to leave their families and go into hiding."

"But that's not your fault."

"Do you know that my mum had to perform a memory charm on her parents and send them to _Australia _because she couldn't risk them even remembering she _existed?" _I don't know this, so I just shake my head. "Yeah," she insists, moving right along, "when she was eighteen. Younger than _me. _But she had to because people like your _grandfather _were trying to kill them!"

Whoa.

"Where did _that _come from?" I ask, leaning up and looking at her with what I know has to look like I think she's gone a bit mental. Her eyes have darkened to that almost black stage, and I can tell she's suddenly, out of nowhere, decided to throw all the cards onto the table.

"Oh, yeah," she says, nodding quickly. "Don't act like you don't know about your granddad and his mates' little hobbies. They would have killed _my_ grandparents without a second thought!"

"What are you even talking about?" I ask, and I can't believe she's suddenly out of nowhere decided to have _this _argument when we've spent years trying to prove that shit from the past doesn't matter. Apparently, though, in her newfound social conscience, Rose has also decided that ancient history should be rehashed and brought into the future where, as far as I can tell, it has absolutely no relevance whatsoever.

"Do you want me to _tell _you about your grandfather?" No, no particularly, though I'm sure she's not really asking. She's not. Without even hesitating a second, she goes right along. "Lucius Malfoy has tried to kill my entire family at one point or another. My _mother, _when she was a _teenager, _was nearly tortured to death in their_ house! _By your grandmother's sister! And your grandparents _and _your _dad_," she glares me at on that, "just stood by and watched!"

I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that. I don't know if she actually expects me to respond or what. I don't know where any of this is coming from, or why she's apparently got all this knowledge about my family that she never thought important enough to divulge before. If all that's true and she knew about it… then why has it taken her _this _long to bring it up? We don't talk about the things our parents did or things they did to each other because, as far as I knew up until three seconds ago, we don't _know _about them.

But apparently I was wrong.

I just look at her. I don't have anything at all to say. She looks back, and I can tell she expects me to respond. When I don't, her eyes go impossibly darker, and she glares at me.

"Did you even hear what I just said?"

It takes me another long moment to finally say anything back. A million thoughts are blurring in my head, and I'm not sure where one ends and the next begins. They all sort of just fade into each other. "What happened?" I finally say, and I keep my voice low and even and as absolutely calm as possible as I watch her carefully.

"I just told you what happened!" she snaps. "My parents and my uncle got captured while they were hiding out, and they got brought back to your grandparents' house because apparently that was Death Eater central or something… And they locked my dad and my uncle down in the basement while your _aunt _tried to torture my mother to death and everyone else, including your _father, _looked on and did nothing!"

I try to imagine this scenario in my head, but I can't. I know my grandfather has evil tendencies, but my grandmother would never hurt anyone. And my father's certainly no fan of Rose's parents, but he wouldn't stand by and watch them get tortured. I don't even know what aunt she's talking about. I don't know anything about my grandmother's family.

"Who told you that?" I finally ask, mostly because I don't know what else to say.

She looks at me like I'm an idiot. "My _mother," _she says, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"When did she tell you?"

"Back a million years ago when the whole world was going to fall apart because we started dating!" She motions quickly between herself and me, and she rolls her eyes in a way that doesn't do much to make me feel better.

And then what is there to say?

She's known about it for four years. She's known something like _that _for four yearsand has never told me. Omitting details or not, it's the same thing. She's essentially _lied _to me the entire time we've been together.

And what am I supposed to say?

"_Well?" _she demands, and her eyes are positively blazing now.

"Well, what?" I ask, my voice still quiet and emotionless. "You lied to me."

"_Excuse _me?"

"You lied to me," I repeat, and I look her straight in the face. "You never once, in all the years we've been together, thought _maybe _that's something you should tell me?"

"I didn't tell you because it's not important!"

"If it's not important, why are you bringing it up now?"

She sputters about a bit and then glares at me because she knows I'm right. She doesn't like to be proven wrong. And in classic Rose fashion, she completely avoids the question and turns the subject a different direction. "You haven't got any room to talk!" she accuses.

"What are you talking about?"

"You didn't think it was important to tell me that your grandfather wrote you a two page letter saying how everything that's going on with the Muggle killings is all my mum's fault and how he hopes somebody manages to kill her as well this time!"

I stare at her.

A long deafening beat of silence rings out, and I can tell right away that she realizes she's just said something she didn't mean to.

"How do you know about that?" I ask, struggling to keep my voice even and calm.

She looks away, and her hair swings over her shoulder. It takes her a second to think of how she wants to reply, but when she does, she does so almost defiantly. "I found it on your desk."

"You went through my things?"

"It was lying right out in plain view!"

"So you thought that made it alright for you to open it up and read it?"

At that, she jumps up and spins around to look down at me. "Whether or not I read it doesn't change the fact that he wrote it! And that you didn't tell me about it!"

Sometimes I wonder if she actually hears the words that come out of her mouth. Is she _serious _with this? I just shake my head. "Who gives two shits what my grandfather says? When have I ever cared about _anything _he says?!"

"Don't yell at me!" she shouts. I wonder if she sees the irony.

"I don't even know why you're telling me all this!" I go on, completely ignoring her. "What do you expect me to do about any of it?"

"I don't expect you to do anything! How could I? Obviously it's not in your genes to actually _do_ anything, at least not anything _decent!"_

And then she leaves.

I don't get a chance to respond to that because she Disapparates on the spot. I stare at the space she just evacuated in shock. What the hell just happened? It's Christmas. Tonight was supposed to be great… And now…

Now I don't even know what's going on at all.

But I doubt anything good's going to come from it…

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A/N: Sorry for the delay! I had several papers to write this week, so I had to focus on that for a bit. Anyway, it's up now, and I hope you guys like it (though more likely to hate it…) Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter!


	21. Kate, January 6th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 21

**KATE**

**January 6****th**

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James Potter is the bane of my existence.

Did I mention that already?

He's been the bane of my existence since before I even knew the definition of the word bane. He's been a constant problem in my life since, I don't know, forever possibly, probably before I even knew him. In fact, I remember being about six years old, and my mum reading a magazine and telling me that Harry Potter's son was exactly my age and that I'd probably be in school with him someday. I remember thinking how terribly spoiled he must be and how he was probably a little monster.

And damn, was I ever right!

School certainly didn't do much to lessen the extent of his annoyance in my life. He was just as stuck and spoiled as I imagined he'd be, and when I finally got caught up in all the hype surrounding him, I ended up as one of the many girls he fucked and forgot. Except I suppose that's not really true. James was a bit nicer to me than he was to any of the other girls he charmed. But in a way, that was almost worse. At least any delusions that those other girls held onto were based totally in fantasy. The ones I held onto were semi-based in truth. And that's why I let myself get _so _drawn in by him that I absolutely refused to even entertain the thought of dating anyone else.

So by the time I left Hogwarts, I had experience with exactly one boy.

And that boy was James Potter.

James Potter is not like any other man I've since come across. He is a lot more confident, a lot more cocky, a lot more annoying, and a lot more arrogant than any of the others. He is a bastard in the absolute purest form of the word. The trouble, of course, is that he knows this and has absolutely no desire to be anything else. _My _problem is that I always lived under some grand delusion that he _could _change, or that, at the very least, I could make him _want _to change.

And, of course, I was terribly, terribly wrong.

James has no intention of ever being anything more than a shallow mass of floppy hair, smoothly toned arms, sleepy brown eyes, and a slightly crooked smile of shockingly perfect teeth. Not that I can blame him, I suppose. After all, that shallow mass has made him a _lot _of money and landed a _lot _of women in his bed. And money and sex rank number one and two on his list of important life aspects.

And yet, for some reason, I continue to let myself fall into situations where I'm completely at his mercy.

I should have learned my lesson years ago. I should never have come back here in the first place, knowing fully well that avoiding him altogether would be absolutely impossible. And yet, I _did _come back. Because apparently I'm some sort of masochist. Apparently I must get off on being emotionally fucked around. And god, if I know why…

There is so much that I hate about James Potter. _So _much. And yet, I'm as helpless around him as I was when I was fifteen years old. All he has to do is look at me, and I have to physically force myself not to jump him. It's ridiculous, and it's pathetic. And yet, I constantly put myself into situations where he can just play with my head and mind fuck me.

So naturally, it was only a matter of time until he started _really _fucking me.

It's my fault, of course. I've got no one to blame but myself. I really can't even blame James because that's just what he does. He doesn't know any better. It's as if that sort of thing is physically encoded into his DNA. Not that that makes it okay, but I shouldn't be surprised in the least.

But I _should _have a bit more self-control.

I haven't, though. I'm as susceptible to his shit now as I was when I was a kid. Maybe even more now because now I _know _what I'm missing and what I've _been _missing. Yes, fine, I'll admit it. He's good. Okay, he's the _best. _At least from what I've experienced, which, admittedly, is not that much. However, it's enough, and it's enough to know that nothing even comes close. And so can you blame me for not being able to resist?

It was bad enough when he showed up at my flat unannounced and uninvited, pissed completely out of his mind, on Christmas no less. It was bad enough that I kissed him and then that I let him force me into admitting that I didn't want him to leave. It was bad enough that had he not been hit by the first inch of a conscience to ever show up in his entire life, I would have dragged him back to my bedroom and done anything he asked.

All of that was bad enough.

It was _worse _when he showed up in my office a week later, drunk off his head, of course, and looking like somebody hit his puppy with a double-decker (not that James ever had a puppy, or, even less likely, would care if one was hit by a bus, but you get the point). And I should have thrown him out right away because he did not have an appointment and, therefore, had absolutely no business whatsoever showing up and bothering me unannounced. But I could just imagine my boss's reaction if, heaven forbid, word were to get out that I'd treated James Potter like an actual human being and not like the god we're all apparently supposed to pretend he is… So I didn't.

I let him come in and sit down in the chair opposite my desk and look at me with those stupid brown eyes that always get to me no matter what. I let him stare at me expectantly with a ridiculous heavy silence until he finally said, "Well?"

"Well, what?" I asked back. I don't honestly know why I even bothered, but I'm certainly not the type down to back down from a challenge- especially one stubbornly offered by James.

"Well, what have you got to say about Christmas?"

Was he _serious? _I still don't know if he was trying to be funny, but at the time, I just gaped at him in shock. "You mean what have I got to say about you popping 'round my place unannounced and un_welcomed _and accosting me in my kitchen?!"

"Accosting you?" He raised his eyebrows. "Really, Kate? _Really?"_

"You practically knocked my door down banging on it!"

"In the kitchen, though? That was me _accosting _you?"

At that point, I wanted to rip his hair out by the roots and choke him with it. I didn't, of course, because I'm pretty sure you probably get triple the normal prison sentence if you off a Potter.

"That was you butting in where you're not wanted!"

But James couldn't just let it slide. He simply _had _to open his mouth. "You _said _you wanted me there. You said it with your own mouth."

"Because you forced me to!"

James laughed. "I've never forced you to do anything you didn't want to do, so don't even pull that crap."

I didn't have any reply to that, mostly because it was true, so I changed the subject. "What are you even doing here, James? Shouldn't you be out somewhere posing for pictures with Charlotte?"

"Dumped her." He said it so nonchalantly that it was hard to even understand what he was saying. I looked at him suspiciously, and he just shrugged. "Two days ago. Don't you read the papers?"

"Try to avoid them," I replied dully. Honestly, I don't know how it was possible that I somehow missed that bit of information, seeing as how I've seen it _everywhere _since then.

"Well, she's gone," he said flatly. "And now I'm sure she's shopping her story around to the tabloids, trying to get the best price."

"And you're okay with that?"

He shrugged again. "I don't care. She may as well get something out of it, too."

And I couldn't believe him. He was mental. He _had _to be. "Do you _hear _yourself?" I asked disbelievingly. "You've got to be the most emotionally stunted person on the face of the planet. You don't care about _anything, _do you?"

"I care about Quidditch."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, of course, how could I forget?"

"And I'd care about you, too," he went on without missing a beat, "if you weren't such a bitch to me all the time."

"Don't call me a bitch," I said sharply.

"I didn't call you a bitch. I said you're a bitch to _me. _As far as I can tell, you're quite pleasant to everyone else."

"Why do you constantly insist on annoying the piss out of me all the time?" I snapped.

"Because you refuse to admit what's right in front of you!"

"Oh?" I rolled my eyes. "And what exactly is that, James? Do tell."

"You refuse to admit this."

"Admit what?"

"This," he repeated again, motioning between us.

"I'm not sixteen years old anymore, James," I bit back. "I'm not going to fall for your shit anymore. I'm not going to be just another number to add to your bloody list! You're wasting your time."

"So that's it?"

"Yes, that's it." I thought I was making a fabulous case and putting my foot down properly. Of course, I was terribly mistaken, as James called me on my mistake a second later.

"So it's nothing to do with the fact that you're engaged to be married, huh?"

Yes. Engaged to be married. I'd forgotten (again) about the idiotic lie I was immersed in. Since being back in London, I've barely thought about Marc, excepting, of course, the times I managed to dig my hole deeper and deeper by lying about the entire situation.

I rolled my eyes, trying desperately to hide my bluff. "Of course it's to do with that, but I'm talking about _you _right now."

James didn't want to talk about himself, though (got to be the first time in history _that's _ever happened). "You weren't wearing your ring at your flat, either," he said bluntly. "I thought you said the only reason you didn't wear it at work was because it got in the way?"

Shit. I thought quickly, though. "I'd just got out of the bath a few minutes before you showed up. _Uninvited, _of course," I couldn't help adding.

"Does your fiancé know you don't wear your ring?"

"It's none of your business," I snapped, narrowing my eyes in what was supposed to be some sort of show of anger, though I'm sure it came across quite pathetic.

And then he laughed. He fucking _laughed. _And I wanted to slap the shit out of him, but I refrained because I like to think I'm a bit above physical violence.

"Let's pick back up where we left off on Christmas." James has absolutely no sense of tact, so I don't know why I was even a little bit surprised by his forwardness. Instead of letting it show, though, I simply crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes.

"Aren't you far too concerned with my virtue or something?" I challenged.

But James shrugged. "_You_ obviously don't care too much about your fiancé, so why should I?"

And then I stood up and walked around the desk to stand in front of him. It made me feel in control of the situation since I was momentarily taller.

"You need to leave. Unless you've got a question about your account, you've got no reason to be here."

"That's just like you, isn't it?" he smirked. "Always telling me I need to leave when inside, you're really begging me to stay."

"I'm not begging you to do anything."

And then all bets were off.

He stood up, grabbed me by the face and kissed the hell out of me. It was very much like the kisses before in my kitchen, but this time, there was an even greater angry undertone to it, which really only made it hotter. And I should have pushed him away and maybe slapped him or something, but I didn't. Because I would have been fooling no one but myself if I tried to pretend like I didn't want it.

So I kissed him back.

And the next thing I knew, well, I didn't have my shirt on, and I was flat on my back on my desk with a stack of parchment falling gracelessly to the floor beside me. And thankfully, someone had enough sense to throw a locking charm at the door (though it's still fuzzy as to who actually did it). And that was it. There was really no turning back after that, and who would want to really?

From that point on, I was diving headfirst straight into hell.

James is fantastic in bed. I'm sure that's surprising to no one, of course, seeing as how practice makes perfect, and he's probably had more practice than anyone else in the universe. I'm sort of the complete opposite as far as practice goes. After I left school, I went through a brief period of shagging various people and partaking in a few one-night stands, but I was drunk most of the time, so it's not as if I remember too much about it or got too much from it. After I met Marc, that stage of my life ended, of course, and I settled down into two and a half years of monogamy. See where that got me? Perhaps I shouldn't look down on James for being such a great whore. After all, he probably doesn't even know the definition of monogamous, but he's clearly quite a bit happier than I am.

And so it's started.

I sort of feel like I'm sixteen again. Because when I was sixteen, the most exciting part of my life was sneaking around and meeting James in old coat closets and broom cupboards. We've managed to move on from dusty cupboards to more conventional spots, but there's still a sort of forbidden air to it. And it still feels a bit like sneaking, considering the fact that as far as he's concerned, I've got a fiancé waiting for me in France who's got no idea that I'm in England shagging an old boyfriend. And I've got to admit, the new spots we've found are quite a bit up from those old school hiding places. James's flat for one. It's massive and pretentious and exactly the way I would have imagined his flat to look. He says the same about mine (not the massive and pretentious part- the part about it looking exactly the way he would have imagined). His place is fantastic, though, in a completely self-important sort of way. It's also sparkling clean (thanks, of course, to his full-time maid, who I suspect hates him and may be trying to poison him) and worth probably more than I'll make in my entire life.

And James loves it.

It makes him feel like the all-important man he fancies himself to be. It makes him feel as if his egomaniacal attitude is somehow justifiably warranted. It's okay, I suppose. It's very much the way I would expect him to behave. That's the thing about James- he's totally predictable. It's one of the many things about him that drives me absolutely mad, but it's also one of the many things I've come to accept. He isn't going to change. That much is clear.

"Red or white?" He smiles sloppily as his head pops back up over the counter and he holds up two bottles. He's apparently gone on a Muggle alcohol kick as of late, as his kitchen cupboards are full of all types of wine, gin, and sherry. He hasn't kicked his Ogden's habit, though, and the firewhiskey still outnumbers all the rest. Wine, he's apparently learned, though, is supposed to be romantic, and he's obviously trying to use it to his advantage. Although I'm quite sure his definition of romantic is seduction and nothing more.

Not that he really needs any assistance.

"Red," I say, taking the bottle of cabernet from him. "You're supposed to chill white, by the way."

He shrugs and starts rummaging through a drawer for something to open the bottle with. "It all does the same thing," he says carelessly.

He's talking, of course, about the alcohol's effect- getting drunk, in other words. James is rarely _not _drunk- at least a little bit. I would say he's probably got a problem, but the truth is, he's been that way for so long that I'm sure if it was going to be a problem, he'd have been long dead by now. He must have the world's greatest alcohol tolerance or something because he seems perfectly healthy.

He finds a corkscrew and passes it over to me as he turns around to get some glasses out of the cabinet. I open the bottle with a bit of effort, and when he passes me the glasses, I fill them both about halfway full. James walks around from the counter and takes his. I sort of expect him to down it in one gulp, but he's apparently got a bit more class than that, as he gingerly takes a sip and swirls it around in his glass like he's some sort of wealthy, high-class gentleman or something.

Well, he _is _a textbook spoilt rich kid, but it's certainly not of the old money, wine-tasting vein. It's more in the… _my dad's the most famous person in the world, and because of that, I now make more than Quidditch players with five times the experience and five times the talent _vein.

"You look really pretty tonight," he says smoothly, and I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you a compliment."

"You do realize I'm going to sleep with you regardless, right? You don't have to waste your time." I sip my own wine, and it tastes expensive and fantastic.

And then he smiles because he's smart enough to know that he's got me exactly where he needs me to be. "I'm just telling the truth." He takes my glass and sets both it and his own on the counter behind me. "You _are _very pretty."

He leans in to kiss me, quite a bit more gently than he's been doing as of late. His lips taste with just a hint of the bittersweet cabernet, and his hand twirls lightly through my hair. It's nice. Nicer than I'd like to admit. For the millionth time, I wonder what the hell is exactly wrong with me and why I'm in this situation. This certainly isn't doing me any good, as I'm in far too deep already. James Potter is not good for me.

But _fuck _if it doesn't feel absolutely perfect.

These past few days have made me feel better than I felt in the entire time that I was with Marc or any of the other men I briefly entertained before that. It feels like it's _exactly _where I'm supposed to be, even though I know that's absolutely not true. James is bad for me- _nothing _(except this) about James is good for me. Letting myself get wrapped up in this is going to do nothing but turn out horribly.

His lips slide over mine easily and naturally, and then they eventually stop, and he lets his hands fall down to my waist where they hook behind my back as he moves me just a couple of steps backwards until my back's against the counter. And then he just leans there and lets his forehead drop down to my shoulder.

It's nice- a little _too _nice.

"James?" I put my hands on his shoulders, and he turns his head to look at me without lifting it. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he says, lifting one shoulder. "I just like this."

I shouldn't keep looking in his eyes, but I can't help it. His face is just a few inches from mine, and he's looking on very intently. He's so damn _beautiful _that it really isn't fair. And then he finally lifts his head just enough to brush his lips against mine briefly.

"I wish you liked me the way I like you." He says it quietly, and it almost sounds honest.

And I _almost _tell him the truth.

Almost.

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A/N: Okay, so I know that was probably the longest delay I've ever had- EVER. But I've just had terrible writer's block. I know what I want to write, but I just couldn't get motivated. Hopefully now it's broke, though, and hopefully you guys are still interested in the story. Thanks for reading!!


	22. Hugo, January 23rd

faFINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 22

**HUGO**

**January 23****rd**

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Getting off the train this time made me realize that I really _am _almost done.

This is my last term of my last year, and after this, there'll be no more Hogwarts, no more school, no more of anything at all that I'm used to. What happens after school? I go off on my own, find a job, and have a baby? I work eight hours a day to feed a child that's really not even mine?

Fuck.

I don't know why I let myself get into this mess. I should have known better. I don't know what the hell possessed me and made me think that taking responsibility for something that's got absolutely nothing to do with me would be a good idea. And now, I don't have a clue how to get myself out of it.

In a way, I'm glad to be back at school. Home was getting a bit smothering. Rose is on the outs with Scorpius, I guess, and she spent most of her time at home either locked up in her room or moping. Landon doesn't really like me all that much, so it's not even as if I had him to distract me. Dad didn't do much of anything except snap at me a whole lot and make muttered comments under his breath that he obviously _wanted _me to hear. And Mum was driving me absolutely _mad _trying to be overly supportive. It was getting extremely tiresome.

But Dad bitching at me really _did _make me think about how things were really going to be. I started realizing that it wasn't going to be easy at all and that I don't really have a lot of options as far as jobs go and that I certainly haven't got any idea what goes into raising a baby. But I don't know what else to do at this point. I can't just _abandon _Maria, not after I already told her I'd help her. And she needs me, she hasn't got anyone else to turn to.

She hasn't told her parents about the baby yet, and she swears up and down that she isn't going to. I suppose she thinks she's just going to tell them when the kid pops out and that they won't notice her ever-expanding belly or think anything strange of it. And it _is _expanding- slowly but surely. She does quite a good job of covering it up, and I don't think anyone has caught on yet, but it's only a matter of time. Eventually there's going to come a point where she can't hide it anymore, and all the baggy jumpers in the world aren't going to help her.

She said she went to a Muggle doctor at some clinic while she was at home, and that bloke said the baby's due mid-June, which means it may come before we even leave school. That would be awful- to have the baby the week of our NEWTs or something- can you imagine? She went to that doctor so that her parents wouldn't find out, but I don't know what she plans on doing now. She needs to see the nurse, but she said she's too scared it'll get out. And if the teachers know, it's only a matter of time before the students start finding out.

And I don't think either of us are ready for that.

Mum tried to tell me that it was important to do damage control and that it would be better if a statement was released rather than just letting the story break in the media, but obviously I can't let her do that if Maria hasn't even told her parents yet. Although, I've got a feeling they're going to find out from the papers any way it goes, seeing as how she refuses to tell them and all that. But _I'm _not ready for the world to know. I just can't tell Mum that because then she'd freak out and think that it's going to be an even bigger disaster than I'm sure she already secretly thinks it'll be. At least this way, she thinks I'm alright with it. She'd have a heart attack if she knew I was scared shitless and freaking out over it.

I just wish I could tell somebody the truth, you know? Just one person even, it'd be better than keeping it all up inside. I feel like I'm going to go mad. Not only am I keeping the whole entire thing quiet, but I can't tell _anyone _that it's not my baby- not Lily, not even Amanda.

And Amanda's starting to give me the cold shoulder a bit. She hasn't completely blown me off, but she's definitely acting a bit strange and distant. She didn't write one time over holiday, and since we've been back at school, she's been acting weird. I know it's to do with Maria and the whole baby thing, but I don't know _why _exactly. I mean, I don't blame her for thinking I'm an idiot, but she's supposed to be my best mate, you know? I dunno, I just always thought she'd be the _one _person who wouldn't end up being a complete fuckwit in the end.

We're waiting outside the dungeons after breakfast waiting for Professor Montague to come down and let us in. There aren't too many people down yet, so it's not as if she's got many other options on people to chat with. And she isn't _ignoring _me, she's just not really paying too much attention as I try to have a conversation with her. Instead, she's got her head in her Potions book like she's doing a bit of last minute revising or something- only, I know she isn't because we haven't got an exam or anything, and she never studies unless she has to.

"But if the snow gets really bad, and they cancel the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw match, do you think they'll hold the make-up this month even though Ravenclaw's got another match already lined up?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "I dunno," she says unenthusiastically. "Maybe."

Maybe. I can't even get a probably or a probably not. Fantastic.

"Well, it would just suck if they let it hold out for a long time, wouldn't it?" I keep trying. "I mean, the team's already trained up for right now."

"Yeah."

And then I give up. There's no point to it. She obviously isn't in the mood to talk, or at least not to me. It doesn't matter anyway because five seconds later, two sets of feet come pounding down the stairs in a very clicking sort of way. It's Lily and Lydia and their shoes that are far, far too impractical for stone staircases. Evan Scott reaches out and tries to grab Lily's hand as she passes by, but she pulls it away and bounds straight over to where we're standing.

"Morning, cousin!" she says brightly, kissing me quickly on the cheek and then reaching over to rub her lipstick print away. She looks around me at Amanda who is peering sideways at her as if she's got six heads. "Hello, Amanda!"

"Fuck off, Lily."

Lily smirks, and it's obvious that she's a little bit _too _amused by the immediate response. "Touchy this morning, aren't we?"

"No," Amanda shoots back without missing a beat, "that's just my natural reaction anytime I come across pathetic slags."

A couple of people let out low whistles, and somebody snickers (though I haven't got a clue as to who). Lily, for what it's worth, keeps an absolutely reactionless face and just continues to smirk. She waits a second and then smiles even wider.

"Sorry, Amanda, I always forget how difficult it must be for you. What with being the last virgin in the entire year and all… God, my baby cousin's a slag compared to you. She's had more action than you, and she's thirteen." Everyone's looking on now, and a couple more people snicker. "You do realize _that's _what pathetic is, right, love? Not me."

Amanda doesn't say anything right away. She just stares at Lily very hard, and her cheeks turn a light pink. Finally, though, she manages to get her wits about her and show up with a comeback. "And you do realize the only reason _anyone _likes you is because your surname, right?"

"It's alright, Amanda, I'm used to people being jealous of me."

And Amanda lets out something that's halfway between a laugh and a snort. "You're mental. If I were going to be jealous of someone, it'd be someone with at least _half _a brain and at least a _hint _of depth. Not a shallow, stuck up, lying, snobby bitch."

"Wow," Lily shakes her head, but the standard smirk doesn't leave her lips. "You don't have to be nasty, I was only trying to be nice. My mum told me I should do more charity work."

Now, you may be wondering why I'm standing here and saying absolutely nothing, but there's a very easy answer to that question- I'm terrified of both of them. Separately and together. Worse yet, is that they'd both expect me to be on their side and take up for them, and I'm not prepared to do that. For either of them. Frankly, they're both scary as shit, and I don't have the balls to stand up _to _either of them anymore than I do to stand up _for _them.

Amanda glares at Lily in a way that I'm sure would leave my cousin dead on the ground if looks could kill, but Lily just laughs as if it's no big deal and tosses her hair behind her shoulder. She turns back to me and starts speaking in a way that seems as if she's trying to be very obvious for some reason.

"Anyway, Hugo," she says brightly, "Lucy's well into you. You want to have lunch with her or what?"

My own cheeks start heating up, and I'm sure they'll be bright red in a matter of seconds. It wouldn't be so bad if everyone in my whole class weren't looking on, but since they are, it's rather uncomfortable. Not to mention, of course, that I haven't got the slightest bit interest in Lucy Henderson, so I don't know _why _Lily's suddenly gone on this mission. I suspect it's just because she hates Maria, and she thinks I should be someone who _she _deems acceptable.

"Just leave it alone, Lily," I mutter, wishing everyone would stop staring.

"Well, I'm just trying to help you out," she argues. "Besides me, you haven't got _any _decent females you go 'round with." She says this very pointedly, and you'd have to be the stupidest person on the planet not to know what she's insinuating and exactly who she's speaking about.

The subject of her insult glares hatefully at her, and I sort of want to die. It's lucky, I suppose, that Montague chooses that exact second to show up. He ignores us all, of course, as he hates everything that's got to do with Gryffindor and any of its residents, and he stalks right by us to unlock the door to the classroom. Other teachers might hold the door open while we file inside, but he goes straight in and lets the door slam behind him.

We file in behind him and all take the same seats we've pretty much occupied for the last several years. There are a few variances, of course, and Lily finally acknowledges Evan Scott. She sits down at the table with him, and Lydia looks momentarily lost before she slides into the empty chair beside Evan's normal tablemate, Peter.

Potions is as boring as ever. Montague treats us like worthless little shits, and as usual, my classmates all try to outdo each other on annoying him. None of us are going to get our Potions NEWT because none of us have paid attention to anything over the past couple of years, ever since we realized that the professors _really _can't do anything to us besides shout and give us detention. It's weird when you stop being frightened of adults and realize that actually, you really _can _do whatever you want. I think we all hit that stage about three years ago, and it's been downhill ever since.

Montague likes Lily actually, but it's in a really pervy sort of way, which is completely disgusting. Except, of course, that Lily encourages it and constantly does things to drive him mad on purpose. It's funny, actually, because Montague _hated _both of her brothers, but he lets Lily get away with anything. I suppose James and Al haven't got certain _attributes _that Lily has, so it's not as easy for them to unbutton the top couple of notches of their blouse and get out of detention. Lily does that for fun, though. She does it because she knows Montague can't do anything about it, and it drives him positively _mad _when she "accidentally" drops a quill or something on the floor and has to climb under the table on her hands and knees to get it.

The rest of the lads in the class don't mind too much, either, which is just plain disgusting.

By the time class is over, we're all well on our way to serving detention for the rest of our Hogwarts careers, and Montague has assigned us three rolls of parchment due by Thursday. Amanda, who doesn't believe in engaging in the immature antics of our classmates, rolls her eyes as she gathers up her things and packs them away in her bag.

"You want to go back to the Tower for break?" I ask, knowing that I should be careful because she's still pissed off about the scene before class.

"I'm going to the library," she says, and her voice is hard and even.

"Oh, you want to study?" I ask, trying to make amends for something I had nothing to do with. "I can quiz you on the Astronomy exam."

"No, I need to do something," she says back, and I know she meant it to sound as completely cryptic as it really does. She swings her bag over her shoulder and heads for the door without saying anything else.

I follow her out into the corridor and up the stairs back to the main part of the castle. "Why are you mad at me?" I ask, and I have to actually hurry a bit to catch up with her.

"I'm not mad at you," she replies noncommittally.

"You seem like you are." She doesn't say anything, just keeps walking up the stairs until we finally end up in the east corridor of the first floor. "Look, I'm sorry about Lily, okay?" I say because I don't know what else to say. "But there's nothing I can do about her, you know how she is."

"I don't give a shit about Lily," she says a bit too firmly, which makes me think that she actually _does _give a bit of a shit about it. Otherwise, she wouldn't be so adamant that she didn't care. "She's completely inconsequential in all aspects of my life."

"Then _I _did something?"

"_No," _she says, exasperated. "There isn't anything wrong, alright?"

I start to argue with her, but we're interrupted by Maria who is hurrying towards us on her way to the dungeons.

"Hey!" she says brightly, smiling at both of us in an overly friendly sort of way. It's a bit unnerving actually, but it's better than the two weeks she spent crying in the loo, I suppose. I certainly don't want to repeat that any time soon.

"Hey, Maria." I try to inject at least a _bit _of enthusiasm into my voice, but it's difficult, seeing as how I'm not at all excited to see her.

"Is Montague being a nightmare today?" The Hufflepuffs have got Potions directly after us, whereas we've got our morning break.

"Same as always."

"Fantastic."

"I probably wouldn't go in there right now," Amanda says dully. "He's probably got his dick out wanking it. Thanks to Lily and her natural whoriness."

This is wrong on so many levels that I can't even begin to explain it to you. I don't want to think of _anyone _wanking to thoughts of Lily, much less some bastardly, greasy old teacher who's probably even older than our parents. Seriously, I don't know why Lily does that shit. She does it on purpose because she thinks it's funny, but it's really just disgusting. Sometimes I wonder what her mum would do if they knew _half _the things she gets up to.

"Well, that's a pleasant thought," Maria replies, and her facial expression gives away the fact that she's nearly as grossed out by the thought as I am. She smiles a second later, though, and shrugs as she takes my hand. "Oh, well, maybe class'll start late."

She smiles at me, and I try to respond with something closer to a smile than a grimace. It's difficult, though, seeing as how I can't make myself be into Maria no matter how hard I try. I thought I could just fall into being her boyfriend or whatever she needed me to be so that when the news about the baby finally broke, people wouldn't think it was weird or that she was some kind of slut or something. It's hard, though, and even though I try, I really can't make myself feel anything for her. And I know it's awful.

I'm trying, though.

Amanda gets huffy all of a sudden and tucks her hair behind her ears. "Well, I'm going to the library," she says flatly. "I'll see you at lunch." And then she goes off without so much as another word.

"What's wrong with her?" Maria asks as Amanda disappears around the corner.

I shrug and look down at the ground. I haven't got a clue. Girls make absolutely no sense to me ninety percent of the time.

"I take it she doesn't like me." Maria raises her eyebrows when I look at up, and I try not to look as confused as I really am.

"No, she likes you," I say, and I'm fairly sure I'm telling the truth. "She just has something to do, I guess."

"Were you ever together?"

"Who?" I wrinkle my nose. "Me and Amanda? No way!"

"Oh," she looks kind of surprised, "I just thought…" I look at her expectantly, and she shrugs. "I just thought she sort of acts like she fancies you…"

"She's my best mate."

"Okay." She shrugs again. "I just thought maybe something had happened at one point or something."

"That would be too weird."

I can't even really imagine that. Amanda doesn't _fancy _me. We've known each other since we were little kids. Hell, we didn't even _like _each other until we were practically teenagers. Before that, we fought all the time, and she annoyed the piss out of me. And now we're just best friends, that's all.

"Well, I don't think she likes me to much," Maria says, shrugging again. "I think she probably thinks I'm stealing you or something."

"But you're not," I say, and then I realize how abrupt and harsh that sounds, so I hurry and try to correct myself. "I mean, she's just my friend. I don't know how anyone can go from being best friends to being _together, _you know?"

Maria smiles, but she looks a little bit unenthused. "I dunno," she says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. "Maybe ask your parents?" She shrugs one more time and then lets go of my hand. "Got to go to class. See you." And then she, too, disappears around a corner.

And now what?

_Maybe ask your parents?!_

That thought floors me and terrifies me all at once. It's strange, but I've never really thought of my parents ever being friends. You don't, though, do you? I mean, your parents are just your parents, and they've been that way for as long as you've known them, so how're you supposed to be able to envision anything that they were before? Obviously I realize that my parents were mates for a long time before they were ever in the position to be someone's parents (sorry, can't make myself even think it, much less say it). But that's got to be different, hasn't it? I mean, their situation had to be a lot different than anything having to do with Amanda and me. Actually, I haven't got a clue what their situation was because I've never bothered to find out.

But Amanda? Really?

I wonder if Maria was just talking out her arse, or if she actually thinks that Amanda fancies me… Surely she was just talking out her arse. I mean, _obviously _that's not true. Amanda doesn't think anything like that about me. If she did, I'd know it, right? I mean, it would just all be too weird, wouldn't it? It's got to be complete shite. Maria hasn't got any idea what she's talking about.

But now what?

I haven't got anyone to talk to, I haven't got anything to _do, _and now I'm starting to freak out about some made up bullshit that was probably invented just to take the piss. Maria knew it would scare me crapless, so she just said it to annoy me. That's got to be it.

And I'd ask Amanda just to be sure…. But problem is, I haven't got a clue what's she's up to.

Apparently, she's decided that working alone is much better than working in a pair.

I think I'd have to disagree.

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A/N: So at least I didn't have such a huge delay. It'd been awhile since a Hugo chapter, so I figured he was due a turn. Thanks for reading, please review!


	23. Scorpius, January 27th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 23

**SCORPIUS**

**January 27****th**

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Rose has gone mental.

Well, actually, she's always been mental, but now she's just gone completely over the edge. Honestly, I'm not even entirely positive what's caused it. From what I can piece together, she feels useless and as if her life isn't worth anything because she hasn't fought in a war or risked her life to save the world.

Clearly, she's got big shoes to fill.

The problem, of course, is that no one _expects _her to fill those shoes. No one thinks that she _should _be out somewhere fighting a war and saving the world. At this point, there isn't much that needs saving. I mean, sure, there are the Muggle killings, but it's not as if it's taken a wide-spread hold on things. There have only been a few attacks, and while obviously, that's awful by itself, it's not the sort of thing that should have her diving headfirst into a pool of rapid insanity. People just expect her to be Rose- and that's it. But she apparently doesn't see that way. Apparently, she believes that she has to be the reincarnate of her parents, even though there isn't even a war going on.

And I've also come to realize in the recent weeks that Rose blames _me _for a great majority of what is wrong with the world today- that's fantastic, I'm sure you can imagine.

I'm not really sure _when _that particular train of thought began, but I imagine it was probably around the time that she went through my things while I was in the loo and read some idiotic bullshit letter that my grandfather wrote. Mind you, it's a completely inconsequential piece of crap that has absolutely no bearing on any part of my reality whatsoever, but she found it and now she's apparently convinced that it's got something to do with me- that somehow I must be genetically wired to share the same type of feelings.

And truthfully, I'm pissed off.

Don't get me wrong. I love Rose, honestly _love _her. But that doesn't mean she can't piss me off sometimes, and sometimes is turning into often lately. That _really _did it, though. And truthfully, maybe I reacted a bit too strongly to her snooping through my things- I do, after all, share most everything with her. Still, though, it isn't so much the fact that she went through my things and read a letter that was clearly addressed to me, it's the fact that she used that letter to somehow make an assumption about my family and me.

An assumption that certainly isn't true.

I don't believe anything my grandfather believes. He's an old, ignorant man who is set in his ways and refuses to even _consider _any other view but his own. And yes, he's obviously done some really horrible things in his time. But what has any of that got to do with me? What has anything that _anyone _else has ever done got to do with me? It hasn't. I'm not my grandfather, I'm not my father, I'm not _anyone _except me. And Rose knows me. She knows me better than anyone else on the entire planet.

So how could she even think otherwise?

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I've been wrong this entire time. Maybe Rose _doesn't _know me the way I thought she did, and maybe she _doesn't _feel the same way about me that I do about her. It's horrible, of course, because I've never even _questioned _that before, but lately, I can hardly think about anything else.

And she _lied _to me.

She's known things about my family that I didn't even know for a really long time. And they're things that aren't exactly pleasant, too. But she's known about them essentially the entire time we've been together, and she's never told me. She's never even brought them up until she needed to use them in a way to get back at me for daring to be upset that she was going through my things and reading private mail. So basically, she used those things as a defense in an argument- specifically in a way to _hurt _me. And I don't even know what to do with any of that.

I would never do that to her. I would never bring something up like that during a fight and use it as a way to hurt her. I can't imagine why she would think it's okay to do that to me. And yeah, on top of being hurt, it also fucking pisses me off.

And it's _really _fucking up my game.

I can't think straight half the time in practice, and Call has been busting my arse over it and has threatened to put the reserve in about fourteen times over the past few days. I need to work it out, though, and stop letting my personal life affect my professional life. It's hard, though, and I don't know how to really do it. I suppose I better learn rather quickly, though, or I'll end up losing everything.

At the moment, though, there's nothing to do but get pissed and try to forget about it.

Kelvin dragged me away from my solitude sulking and forced me into going out to a Muggle pub in town. So now I'm stuck here with far too much liquor already in my system and too many other distractions to keep my mind away from my current personal issues. So Rose has barely written to me in a month… So what? At the moment, I don't even care. It's difficult to care when you're this drunk, and I'm not too good at juggling real things while I've already got this much whiskey in me.

There are a few other blokes from the team here, but they're mostly off hitting on women and buying rounds of drink for whichever girl they're currently trying to bed and all her friends. Kelvin's chatting up some redhead on the other side of the pub. And I'm at the bar ordering drink after drink after drink and trying desperately to drink away all thoughts of my girlfriend (or ex-girlfriend, as I'm sure she technically is at the moment, even though she hasn't officially dumped me yet). I'm trying really hard not to remember that she's a billion miles away doing god knows what and probably hating me at this very second.

"You look sad."

It's a statement of fact, and I look up to see who's said it. It's this blonde girl with too much eye make-up and a rather dazed look on her face. She's young, probably younger than me even, and she's got a glass of dark yellow liquid in her hand.

"I'm Emily," she says when I look over at her. Her cheeks are a little bit pink, but I don't have any idea if it's from the alcohol or if she's blushing for other reasons.

"Scorpius," I say dully, and then I take another long drink from the tall glass of whiskey in front of me.

"That's an interesting name." I shrug, and she climbs onto the stool beside me. "I haven't seen you here before."

"I haven't been here before."

"It's a cool place, huh?" She smiles politely. "Bit smoky, though."

I shrug again.

"How old are you?"

I look at her strangely, wondering why the hell she talks so much and why she insists on incessantly asking me questions. I debate telling her to piss off, but in the end, I'm not very good at being outright rude.

"Nineteen."

"I'm eighteen," she volunteers, as if I've asked her or something. "You look younger than that."

She looks about fifteen, so I don't know why she's talking about me. I empty the rest of my drink and hold up the glass to signal a refill.

"Are you here alone?" She turns her knees so that she's completely facing me, and I wonder why she just can't take the hint and leave me the hell alone. I just don't have it in me to be a bastard, though, so I shake my head. "Me, either," she goes right on. But my friend's over there trying to find someone to buy her drinks." She motions to the redhead that Kelvin's currently chatting up. Ironic. And then, as if she's said all this to make a point, she says, "My drink's low…"

I take that to mean that while her mate is getting chatted up for drinks, she, too, expects someone to pay for her. What the hell. It's not as if one drink costs a lot or anything. I motion to the bartender to refill hers as well.

"Thanks!" She says brightly, and she smiles as the barman hands us new drinks. She starts sipping on hers, and I take a huge gulp of mine. I don't even taste it anymore. That can't be a good sign.

"So, Scorpius," she says my name slowly, as if she's not quite sure she's got it right, "what do you do?"

"Nothing," I mumble immediately, and I take another drink.

"You look awfully well off to do nothing."

And again, I've got no response, so I just shrug.

Emily leans over, and her hand ends up pressed against my thigh. Apparently she's got no sense of personal space or inappropriateness. I actually look over at her and raise an eyebrow.

"I like you," she says quietly. "You're quiet and mysterious. It's sexy."

"I've got a girlfriend," I say flatly, although I'm not entirely sure that's a true statement. After all, Rose isn't exactly speaking to me at the moment, and I don't know too much at all about what's going on in her life except for the fact that she went back to Ireland despite the fact that she told me she didn't want to.

"Does she know you're out with the lads at the pub? I'd be upset if my boyfriend was out getting pissed while I was at home."

And a shrug is all she gets in reply.

And then she kisses me. Out of nowhere. I'm not even aware of what's happening until her lips are actually pressed against mine, and against my own will and good judgment, I kiss her back. It doesn't last very long, but when I pull back, I'm fairly certain that I want to kill myself.

I don't make eye contact with her as I reach into my wallet and fumble around for some Muggle notes to throw onto the bar. I can't be here another second. I have to get out of here and do _something. _

I have to see Rose.

I don't know what I'm going to say or do. I honestly don't even know if I can make it all the way to Ireland as drunk as I currently am. But what the fuck just happened? That girl came out of nowhere. I've never in my entire life ever even kissed anyone besides Rose, and in the course of a second, I potentially fucked up everything I care about.

The international traveling bit is never fun, but I don't even bother heading back home first. I just Apparate right to the border and go through the whole paperwork ordeal and all that bullshit. It's annoying and takes far too long. But I have to see her.

It's shockingly cold when I arrive in front of Rose's building. She lives in a little walk-up on the third floor, and I can't help but notice how eerily quiet it is here. It's late, I suppose, and maybe everyone's already in bed. For half a second, I wonder if she's going to be hacked off that I'm showing up in the middle of the night, but I can't worry about that now.

When I make it up to her flat, I knock on the door, hoping that, by some miracle, she may still be awake and hear me right away. No one answers, though, so I knock a bit louder, trying really hard not to be _too _loud and wake up any of her neighbors or anything. But there's still no answer, so I have to knock even more loudly.

And finally, I hear the chain, and the door cracks open. It's dark inside the flat, but I can make out her eyes as she peers through the crack to see who is pounding her door at this hour.

"Scorpius?" she sounds tired and confused as she opens the door the rest of the way and looks at me. Her hair is a mess, and her nightclothes are wrinkled. I've just woken her up. "What's wrong?"

I don't say anything, I just step into her flat, and she moves aside to let me. She closes the latch on the door, and when I turn around to look at her, she's still staring at me with the same confused look as seconds before.

"What're you doing? It's," she glances at the clock, "almost four in the morning."

I don't answer her. I just take one step toward her, take her face in both my hands, and I kiss her. It almost scares me how much that one particular kiss means. It's got to be the millionth time I've kissed her, but this one feels like the first. There's so much I want to _tell_ her, but somehow it all comes out there in the kiss. Or at least _I _feel it.

When I finally pull back, she opens her eyes and blinks at me. She's shocked, of course, and her lips are slightly parted. There's a dazed look covering her face, and she stares at me silently. The silence is interrupted, though, when a door opens behind us.

"Rose?"

We both turn towards the voice, and Lola is leaning out her door and looking into the sitting room curiously. Her eyes move from Rose to me and then back again.

"Sorry," Rose mutters.

Lola looks at her strangely for a few seconds more before nodding and slipping back into her room. Rose looks at me and then walks off toward the back of the flat where her bedroom is. I follow her, and she shuts the door behind me.

"What're you doing?" she asks again, and this time, her voice sounds a little harder.

"I need to talk to you," I say, and I realize how completely desperate my voice sounds. It's a bit pathetic, but I really don't care that much. "I have to tell you something."

"What?" she asks, and I can tell she's getting annoyed. I suppose I don't blame her. After all, the last time we were actually face to face, we got into a shouting match and she Disapparated without even a goodbye.

What… What do I have to tell her? I know what I _should _tell her, but I'm not sure I'm that brave.

"I love you."

She stares at me, and then she crosses her arms over her chest and raises her eyebrows expectantly. Clearly, I'm supposed to expand upon this declaration of love. It doesn't matter. At the moment, I've got absolutely everything in the world to lose, and I'm not going to let that happen.

"I love you," I repeat, and then I walk over to here and once again take her face into my hands, tilting it up just slightly so that she's looking up. "I hate not being with you."

She blinks back what may be the beginning of tears, and she stares at me intently. "What happened?" she asks, and her voice is quiet and maybe even sounds scared.

I'm not going to lie to her, I have to tell her the truth… It's just difficult. It takes me a good minute to actually get up the balls to say it, and I spend that whole time just looking at her and realizing, not for the first time, how completely _beautiful _she is.

"I kissed somebody."

I just say it and get it over with. It sounds even worse coming out than I expected, and Rose just looks at me for what seems like an eternity. And then she just steps away from me and turns her back. She doesn't say anything, which is awful, and I really wish she'd blow up and start shouting or even turn around and hex me. The silence is deafening, and I hate myself more every single second that passes.

When I finally can't take the silence anymore, I offer up the only thing I have at the moment- an apology. "I'm sorry…"

"When did it happen?" she asks, and she turns back around to look at me. She isn't crying, but her eyes look sad, and she looks tired and worried on top of everything else.

"Just now. Before I came…"

"Why did you do it?"

"I don't know…" And I don't know, that's the truth. "I'm drunk," I add, as though that's even remotely an excuse.

"I can tell."

"Rose…" I say her name quietly, and she looks over at me expectantly. "I'm so sorry." She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't move away when I move closer to her and reach out for her hand. "It's just… I just _hate _this. Being away from you all the time, I don't want to do this anymore."

And then her eyes go wet again, though she's careful not to let any tears actually fall. She stares at me, and she still doesn't pull her hand away. "Are you breaking up with me?" she asks quietly, and her voice sounds as terrified as I feel.

I just shake my head, though, and pull her closer. "I don't ever want to be away from you," I say quietly. "You mean more to me than anything else in the entire world." It's the truth, too. She always has.

And then I kiss her again, putting everything I possibly can into it to let her know that I'm being completely honest. She actually kisses me back, which sort of surprises me. I half-expected her to slap me or something, but she falls right into the kiss, and it means more than anything else ever has.

And when I finally pull back just an inch or so, I hear words coming out of my mouth that I didn't know I wanted to say.

"Marry me."

And then everything stops. I'm as shocked as she is, but I find myself realizing that I mean every bit of it. I've thought about it before, of course, but always in a distant sort of way. But what's the point in waiting? I want to be with her forever. And forever may as well start now.

Rose doesn't say anything. She looks down at the floor, and I wait for her to say something. The silence is even more deafening than it was before, and I find myself wondering what the hell is going on. Why isn't she _saying _anything?

Finally, I add a very weak and pathetic, "Please?"

"Scorpius…" She finally looks up, and I can tell by her face that she isn't exactly pleased with my impromptu proposal. My mind starts racing, and I suddenly feel extremely ill.

"Please, Rose," I say desperately, and I can't even think straight. "I love you. I just… I don't have a ring, but I'll get you one. Just… just say yes. Please?"

But she takes a step backwards, and her hand drops out of mine. "Why are you asking me this now?"

What kind of question is that? I just look at her, and out of all the reactions I'd have ever imagined to a proposal, her tears wouldn't have been one of them. At least not _actual _tears. But there she is, and now her eyes aren't just wet, they're actually spilling tears.

"Because," I say, and I have to stop and breathe for a moment because apparently I've been holding my breath and not even realized it. "Because I want to be with you. Forever. I don't want us to be like this anymore."

"We're nineteen."

"So?" I shake my head, but it doesn't do much in the way of clearing my head. "So, I've been in love with you since… forever. Rose, just please…"

But she shakes her head.

And I stare at her.

There's nothing else I can do. She just shook her head. She just said _no. _I asked her to marry me, and she said _no…_

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and she reaches up to wipe tears out of her eyes. "I just…" Her voice trails off, and she looks at me rather helplessly.

And for the first time in my entire life, I hate her.

She takes a step toward me, but this time _I _back away. She looks miserable, and I wonder how much longer I can stand here without vomiting. "Scorpius, I'm sorry," she says quietly. "Please don't be mad…"

Don't be mad? Is she _serious? _I glare at her.

"Fuck you."

She's shocked, that much is clear. Her mouth even drops open a little bit, and she looks at me, completely stunned.

And then I close my eyes and keep them closed for several seconds before I open them and hope that I'll just wake up from whatever nightmare this is. But I don't. I'm still here in her bedroom, and she's still staring at me like I just ripped _her _heart out and pissed on it.

"_Fuck!" _I put my hands to my head and try again to make it all disappear.

But then Rose finally has something to say. I'm not surprised, seeing as how she _always _has something to say. "You just showed up at my house in the middle of the night and told me you kissed someone else, and you're shocked that I don't want to marry you?!"

And then that really does it. That _really _pisses me off.

"You haven't talked to me in over a month!" I very nearly shout. "Every time I've written you, you've ignored me! And you're no fucking saint, Rose, you've done plenty of shit you shouldn't have done! I came here tonight to try to make things right and try to tell you how I hate everything that's happened to us, but you just…" I shake my head again, I haven't even got the words. For once in her life, she hasn't got a comeback, so I keep going. "I would have given up _anything _for you, Rose," I say pointedly. _"Everything… _But you wouldn't have been worth it."

And she looks at me like I've really hurt her. And I'm glad. I want her to hurt. I want her to feel what I'm feeling.

I want her to be as miserable as I am.

And this time, _I _leave _her _without so much as a good-bye.

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A/N: Awww…. This isn't good, but it rarely is, is it? Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think!


	24. Rose, January 28th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 24

**ROSE**

**January 28****th**

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This can't be happening.

This isn't the way it's supposed to happen. Scorpius isn't supposed to just say, "Fuck you," and walk out on me. He's supposed to be here for me forever. He isn't supposed to hate me and say awful things to me and make me hurt like this. He's supposed to love me.

_Fuck._

After literally making myself physically ill from crying, I decide to go home. Lola stands behind me in the bathroom as I wash the sick out of my hair with her arms around my waist and tells me I shouldn't try and travel like this. She tells me to just wait awhile. But I don't want to. I want my mum. I want her to tell me that everything's going to be okay and how to fix all of this. I want her to tell me how to stop all this hurt.

And so I go.

I make it to the border, and for once, they don't give me a hard time. I guess they can see how upset I am, and they just let me through without going through all the shit of contacting the British Ministry and letting them know I'm on my way. Thank god, too, because I'm fairly certain I'd end up hexing someone if they tried to delay me.

It's after nine when I get to London, so I know no one will be at home. I go straight to the Ministry without bothering to even check the house first. And of course, the second I walk in the door, I run straight into my uncle. I have no idea why he's doing in the lobby, but it doesn't matter. I'm not crying at this point, but I must look awful because about fifteen people stop to stare, and Uncle Harry runs straight up to me.

"Rose!" he says, and he grabs me by the shoulders. I'm sure he thinks someone's died or something by the way I'm acting. "What's wrong?"

"Where's my mum?" I ask, and I hear my voice come out broken and overall pathetic.

"She had to go out of town. What's wrong?" he asks again.

"I need to talk to her."

"Your dad's downstairs."

"I need _Mum," _I say urgently, and then the tears start back up. Uncle Harry looks positively terrified, but he nods and moves to put an arm around me, I guess. I can't help it, though, and I start sobbing out of nowhere and move until he's got no choice but to hug me so that I can hide my face in his shoulder. I should be embarrassed because there are tons of people watching by this point, but I can't make myself cry.

"Okay, come on," he whispers in my ear as he pats my head awkwardly and gently moves me away from the crowd and toward the lift. I don't lift my head the whole way, and it's a bit of a difficult maneuver as we squeeze onto the lift with several other people and head downstairs. The others are still staring, of course, but I still don't care.

When we make it to the right floor, Uncle Harry guides me down the corridor to the little row of offices where he and Dad both work. He calls out for my dad as we're walking, and he's met with an unenthused, "What?"

And then we get to his office door. I keep my head ducked, but I can see him look up at us, and I can see the bewildered expression on his face as he looks from me to Uncle Harry, who raises one shoulder in a shrug that shows he's just as confused.

"What's wrong?" Dad asks, and he stands up and crosses the room to where we're still standing in the doorway.

"I need to talk to Mum," I mumble, and I try really hard but can't stop the tears that are still flowing freely.

"She isn't here," Dad says, and his voice is stony but clearly worried.

"Then _find _her!" I say, my voice louder and not so pleasantly-toned. If it were a normal situation, I'd probably get told off for being hateful.

But I don't. Dad just keeps an eerily even tone, and says, "You tell me what's wrong," in his own sort of tone that doesn't leave much room for argument.

And so I do as he says.

"Scorpius dumped me."

And yes, I hear how completely stupid and trivial it sounds as it comes out of my mouth, but that still doesn't make me react any better when the two of them look at each other and very nearly smile. Actually, it's more like a quick, amused smirk.

And I hate them both.

"It's not funny!"

They stop smirking, and Dad looks like maybe he'd rather be anywhere else in the world at the moment. I can't stop crying, and I don't' know what the hell I'm supposed to do.

"Okay," Dad finally says. Then he looks at Uncle Harry and says, "See if you can find Hermione?"

Uncle Harry raises his eyebrows, but then he nods and leaves. He shuts the door behind him, which is kind of awkward, seeing as how I can't stop blubbering, and Dad's never exactly been a pro with tears. He stares at me, completely lost for several seconds. And then finally, after I don't stop crying, he walks over and hugs me.

And then I really lose it.

I don't know why crying gets suddenly so much worse whenever someone comforts you, but in my experience, all it takes is the slightest touch to really turn on the sobs. And it certainly happens now. Dad's terrified, of course, and I can feel exactly _how _terrified by the awkward way he pats my head. I sort of feel as if I'm five years old again, but I can't help it.

"It's okay," he says in what I know is supposed to be his way of soothing me. He carefully leads me over to the small sofa that's set up in the corner of the office. We sit down, and I'm really actually surprised that he just sits there and lets me cry on him for a really long time.

Finally, though, after what seems like ages, he runs a smoothing hand down my hair and says, "Now what happened this time?" in a very gentle kind of voice that doesn't particularly sound anything like him.

"It isn't _this _time," I say miserably. "It's for _real."_

He asks this because it certainly isn't the first time that Scorpius and I have got into a fight and ended up on the outs. But it's definitely the first time I've ever shown up sobbing at the Ministry. That's because this is the first time it's ever been _real._

"Well, what happened?" he asks again.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the memory and try to make it disappear, but it doesn't work. When I open them again, I find him looking back at me expectantly.

"He asked me to marry him…" I mumble, and even saying the words makes my whole heart hurt.

Dad turns very red, and he looks like he wants to break something- probably a white-blonde Quidditch player with light grey eyes. "You're nineteen," he says through tightly gritted teeth.

"That's what I told him," I choke out, wiping at my eyes roughly. "But…"

"But what?"

"But now he hates me…"

And then it starts up all over again. My very momentary break in the tears is over barely before it's begun, and I start sobbing again. I can't help it. And I haven't a clue how to stop it.

Dad puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer as he lets me cry some more. "He doesn't hate you," he tells me quietly, and he sounds conflicted even with himself.

"He said, _'Fuck you,' _and ran out!" I say hysterically.

"He's probably just upset," he says reasonably. But he doesn't know. He wasn't there when Scorpius looked at me like _that, _like he really wanted to hurt me. Like I really hurt _him. _

"I don't know what to do."

"He'll get over it and come around. You're too young to be married." He says this in exactly the sort of voice that you'd expect from a father. But I shake my head because he doesn't understand.

"I love him," I mutter.

Dad looks terribly perplexed at this. To say he isn't Scorpius's biggest fan would be a major understatement. He doesn't like him and never has. He's honestly never given Scorpius a chance, but that's not all that surprising. He looks as if he's torn between jumping for joy at the fact that I turned down a proposal and telling me how everything'll be alright and how Scorpius doesn't really hate me. It's got to be horribly tough for him, or at least I imagine.

"Then why did you say no?" he finally asks, and this is his attempt at the Devil's Advocate. It pains him to even ask the question, but he does it anyway. For me.

"Because I'm nineteen," I answer weakly.

"And that's it?" He raises his eyebrows at me. "Does it matter that much to you?"

He's going to make me say it. I don't want to say it because it's maybe the worst possible thing I could ever imagine. I don't want to admit it out loud because I can't even _think _it without feeling guilty. But Dad is looking at me expectantly, and I know he can see right through me. Sometimes I write him off as being totally oblivious, but perhaps he isn't all that thick after all.

I shrug. I still don't want to say it.

But Dad shakes his head. "Rose?"

"I don't want to be a Malfoy," I finally blurt out, and the words sound even worse than I imagined they would. They sound ridiculous and cruel and horrible, but they're out there now, and I can't take them back. More quietly and a lot more hesitantly, I also add, "I don't want my kids to be Malfoys…"

There's silence after I say it, and I'm scared to even look over at my father who I know is having one of two reactions- he's either thrilled to pieces that I don't want to sacrifice myself to the dark side…. or he's appalled that I'm just as judgmental as the very family I just denounced.

But when he doesn't say anything for a long time, I force myself to look over at him, and I try to wipe away some of the tears that are still getting in my way. "I know how they are," I say seriously. "I know what they did when you and Mum were kids… And his grandfather _hates _me." I just sound as if I'm making excuses now, but it's all the truth. I move forward, barely stopping to take a breath as my words get quicker and quicker. "And he wrote Scorpius a letter and told him to get away from me, and he kept going on about how all the Muggles who are dying, how they all deserve it. And he says it's all Mum's fault. He even said he wished someone would kill _her!"_

Dad's whole face changes at the last sentence, and he looks scary angry. "When the hell did he say that?" he demands, and I have a feeling he's momentarily forgot about my recent dumping.

"Awhile ago. I saw it at Christmas." Dad seriously looks like he might kill someone, so I just move right along. "He _hates _me. He's barely even talked to Scorpius the whole time we've been together- he's all but disowned him!"

That seems to bring him back, and he looks at me for a long moment and then shakes his head. "What has any of that got to do with Scorpius, though?"

I can hardly believe my ears, and the look on my father's face sort of makes me think that he can't believe it, either. I'm sure he never thought he'd be saying half of what's coming out of his mouth currently. I feel bad, and I look away, trying to make sense of what I'm saying and trying to justify it. It's difficult, though, seeing as how it sounds just as bad as it really is.

"They won't accept me," I mumble. "Ever."

"You just realized this?"

I want to smart off in response, but I haven't even got the energy. "I don't want to be part of that."

"Rose," Dad strokes my hair again and looks down at me sincerely, "has Scorpius _ever _said or done anything that would even _hint _that he may think like his grandfather?"

As if I don't feel awful enough as it is. Now it's just like twisting the knife. I want to throw up, and I'm fairly certain that I'll do just that within a matter of seconds. When I don't answer, Dad just looks at me pointedly and raises a single eyebrow.

"No," I mumble.

"Then you're not being exactly fair, are you?"

What is _with _him? I sit up a bit and turn to look straight on at him. "You _hate _Scorpius," I say flatly.

"I don't hate him." He frowns a bit and shakes his head. "God knows it's not from a lack of trying… But I can't hate him. You'll understand someday." I look at him and raise my own eyebrows. And then he gives me a bit of a sad sort of smile and shakes his head again, this time more slowly. "It's hard to hate someone who loves your little girl that much…"

My heart feels like it's breaking and bursting all at once. Fresh tears spring to my eyes, and I try to blink them back. An hour passes, or maybe a minute. I can't tell. I just look at him and see that he's really being honest.

And I don't know if I've ever loved him more.

"Daddy?" I finally say, and my voice is weak and timid. It's been a _long _time since I've called him Daddy. He looks at me, and I try really hard not to let the fresh tears that are stinging my eyes fall. But then I break, and I just manage a terribly pathetic, "It really hurts…"

And he nods sadly and just wraps his arms around me when I fall back into him and bury my face in his chest again. I'm such a mess, I don't even know how it's _possible _to have this many tears stored up for one occasion. It's horrible, but I feel oddly comforted like this. It reminds me of the times when I was little and would fall down and hurt myself. And Dad would always pick me up and rock me and kiss whatever scratch or bruise I was currently sporting. Then he'd tell me that eventually everything stops hurting and to just give it time. Only this time, there's no visible sign of injury to kiss and magically cure.

"Do you really think he loves me?" I ask softly without raising my head at all, and Dad laughs a quiet half-way amused laugh.

"That boy is absolutely mental over you," he says disbelievingly. "And has been for ages."

"Will he forgive me?" I ask quietly, and now I really feel as if I'm five years old. I don't care, though, because in a way, it's actually rather nice.

"He's a good kid, Rose. And I don't know _how _he turned out that way, but he is a good kid. And things always work out the way they're supposed to."

And then we just sit there in silence for a bit while he pets my hair and lets me wallow in my own misery. He really isn't so bad at this, much better than I'm sure he gives himself credit for. Much better than _I _give him credit for. It's surprising really.

And then Mum shows up.

She's red-faced and breathless, and she turns up in the office looking half-panicked and fully-exhausted. I raise up to look at her, and she looks first at me and then at Dad. And then she sits down on my other side and runs a hand over my head sympathetically.

"Oh, honey," she says softly, and she looks at me sadly before pulling me closer to her and actually rocking me as my head rests on her shoulder. She's much more at ease with this and natural than Dad is, so it's nice in a different sort of way.

"You didn't have to come," I whisper because if I speak any louder, my voice will break, and I'll start crying again. "I'm sorry…"

And I feel really guilty for throwing my fit earlier and demanding that someone find her and make her come back. I have no idea where she was or what she was doing, and for all I know, it could have been something terribly important. Sometimes I have a problem remembering how important Mum's job is, and sometimes I let my own selfishness get in the way.

"It's fine," she assures me. "Are you alright?"

I nod, guessing that Uncle Harry's already told her the reason I'm crying. She already knows that I've been good and dumped and that my heart is broken. Perhaps she just doesn't know the extent of it, the marriage proposal and all that, but I'm sure Dad will fill her in later.

"She's okay, aren't you, love?" Dad asks, and now his voice is cheerful and upbeat, and he reaches over to muss my hair up instead of smooth it.

"I'm okay," I repeat, but I still don't lift my head.

I don't remember the last time I sat like this, tucked between my parents with them each comforting me and taking care of me. It's been ages for sure. I don't remember the last time I ever even cried in front of them that wasn't an attempt at getting out of trouble. And I'm not sure I've _ever _opened up to them like this.

And it's nice.

It really is.

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A/N: So that chapter's a little shorter, but at least there wasn't a long wait for it. I know people hate me for breaking them up, but I just feel like they're two really volatile people who really have the ability to hurt each other because their feelings are so strong. So…. We'll see what happens! Thanks to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter.


	25. Lily, February 12th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 25

**LILY**

**February 12****th**

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My friends are useless.

Bloody useless.

They're damn well lucky that there are only a few months left in the school year and that I can't be bothered with replacing them. I've got half a mind to do so anyway, though, just to teach them a proper lesson, but it really is tiring trying to find a decent lot of girls who're attractive enough and socially acceptable. Not that _that _really matters too much, seeing as how any of them that I pick would immediately be more than socially acceptable, but you know what I mean. It's too much effort trying to train new girls.

The old ones are just going to have to stop being so useless.

I'm totally ignoring them at the moment, though, to let them know that they're being reprimanded because most of them are too thick to realize otherwise. And instead, I'm spending my time doing some family bonding with Roxie, who, I'm sure you know, is turning out to be _quite _the fantastic prodigy. I'm sure my parents and the rest of the adult-type figures in my family would be pleased as punch to know that I'm spending time with her and taking care of her.

And, of course, she loves it.

Roxie was the baby of our family for a really, really long time. Until Landon came along and fucked that up for her- and then, of course, the babies. She's terribly spoilt and fantastically bratty, but she's also really funny and always amuses me at least. She's pretty and she's popular, and she's got a lot of the same character traits that I've got- mainly, she has a lot of haters, so she does whatever she can to squash them for good.

And I find that highly amusing.

At the moment, we're skipping breakfast, and she's babbling on about some thirteen year old bullshit drama that consists of one of her mates trying to get it over on some boy she likes. I don't fight with my friends over boys. I just don't. If one of those slags is desperate enough that she wants to lap of my sloppy seconds, then I say go for it. It's pathetic, but who am I to say no, right?

She's very easily distracted, though, and she breaks off mid-sentence to stare at something apparently quite interesting in the new issue of _Teen Witch Weekly _that she's currently thumbing through. "Whoa," she says disbelievingly. "Check out Scorpius's new shag!"

She thrusts the magazine at me, and I take and look at the open page. Sure enough, there's Scorpius Malfoy with some exotic looking girl who looks quite keen on chatting him up and taking advantage of whatever perks accompany his companionship.

"Rose hasn't got a chance, has she?" Roxie asks, nearly mesmerized.

I shake my head, still staring at the picture. "Not in hell…"

"It's terrible, though," she goes on almost nostalgically. "I really thought they were in love."

I just shrug. "Perhaps he's just finally realized he's famous and can have whomever he wants."

It's barely been two weeks since the news of Scorpius and Rose's split broke, but the papers are having an absolute field day with it. It's ridiculous really, as they never cared much to report about anything regarding them in the past. The second they split, though, you would have thought they were James and Charlotte all over again.

"He's quite fit, isn't he?" Roxie observes, craning her head to take another look at the picture.

"_Quite…" _I agree. And I suppose the dirty thoughts in my head must be obvious on my face because Roxie shakes her head seriously.

"Don't even _think _about it, Lily. Rose would _murder _you."

I purse my lips and roll my eyes. "I'm not scared of Rose."

"You should be," she says quickly. "I'm fairly certain she could kill you with very little effort."

She's probably right, of course, but I just toss my hair and shrug as disinterestedly as possible. "Whatever, back to business."

"Right," she says and nods decisively. "So Jenny went straight up to Michael and-"

"Roxie," I say pointedly. She stops mid-sentence and looks at me. "We need to talk about grown-up problems," I say slowly.

She looks like maybe she might smart off for a second, but then she decides against it. She knows I would shut her down right promptly if she got in her head that she was going to be a little bitch. So she just blinks once and then nods. "Right."

"Right," I repeat, and I smile at her sweetly. "Now, the _problem," _I accent the word to let her know that this is a _real _problem and not some childish drama, "is Hugo running around with that stupid bint."

"Maria?"

I nod. "Maria. Yes. And as you know, she's certainly not up to par with what acceptable should be for someone of Hugo's social pull." Roxie looks a little bit confused, but she nods anyway. "And all of my friends are fucking _useless_, so it looks like it's up to you and me."

I gave my friends strict instructions to break them up. I don't care how it happens, but it just needs to happen. But they are too idiotic to even pull off a simple task like that. I even told Lucy to seduce him if she had to- to get naked and resort to a bit if groping if it came to it. But she's either not anywhere close to desirable, or her seduction skills just suck. Or Hugo's gay. And since I'm pretty sure I'd know by now if he was gay, I'll have to go with one of the first two options. Both of which leave Lucy at fault.

Not that it's all down to Lucy, of course, seeing as how all the rest of my mates suck at life, too, and certainly didn't come up with anything more successful at breaking up Hugo and Maria. It's pathetic really, and I don't know why I expect anything out of them- they're all a bunch of useless little shits, aren't they? So now I've got to pick up the pieces, but I suppose if you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself, haven't you?

"Why is he with her anyway?" Roxie asks as she lazily picks at the varnish on her nails. "She's fat. And I swear she's getting fatter all the time."

I snicker at the irony, but I don't say anything more. It's bad enough I spilled it to Louis on Christmas. I don't need to tell anyone else. Roxie will find out soon enough as it is anyway.

"You're right," I tell her. "She's a disgusting pig, and we've got to save him before he ruins himself permanently."

"Well, I don't see how we can do anything about it really. I mean, not if he really likes her. There's nothing we can do about it, is there?"

"There's _always _something we can do about it," I say firmly. "The question is _what."_

"Haven't you got any ideas?"

"I've had a million ideas, only everyone I know is too idiotic to pull anything off. So I'm leaving it down to you."

"To me?" Roxie wrinkles her brow. "What could I possibly do?"

I sigh. So young. So naïve. "She's got observation duties over your fourth block study, doesn't she?" As a Prefect, Maria has to spend time watching over certain study blocks and making sure that the students show up and use their time wisely. It works out perfectly that one of her blocks this year is with Third Year Gryffindor. "Well," I go on when Roxie nods, "what you're going to do is claim that she hit you."

Roxie's eyes go to about twice their size, and she looks at me as if I'm absolutely nutters. "Are you _mad?" _she asks seriously. "I'm not going to say that she hit me!"

I roll my eyes and force _myself _not to hit her. "Look, it's very simple. You tell Hugo that you got in a bit of an argument with her- say you were giving her lip or something. And then tell him that she got angry and slapped you 'round the mouth."

Roxie snorts with laughter, and she shakes her head. "You're mental, Lily."

"You'll do it," I say flatly. "And then he'll be so pissed off that she was beating up on his little cousin that he'll dump her and stop humiliating himself."

"And how do you expect that's going to be believable?" she asks, and she rolls her own eyes. "You don't think the rest of the class will notice that she never came anywhere near me?"

"You can say it happened in the loo or something," I shrug dismissively. "That's a minor detail."

"And what other evidence do you plan to submit? Don't you think he'll notice that my mouth looks absolutely fine?"

"I'll hit you," I say, shrugging again. "To make it look real."

Roxie stares at me in disbelief. "You're insane, Lily. You are _not _going to hit me."

"Fine!" I say, exasperated. "I'll put a swelling charm on it, and we can fix it up with some red lipstick or something to make it look busted. Whatever, it doesn't matter. He'll believe it."

"And what's in it for me?"

Well, at least she's smart enough to ask for something in return. I'd be sorely disappointed if she just went around doing whatever people told her to do without demanding some sort of payment. In a twisted sort of way, it makes me proud.

"What do you want?"

"Weed," she says without hesitating. "Or pills. _Good _pills," she clarifies, and then she shrugs. "It doesn't matter. Drugs."

"Roxanne, you should _not _be doing drugs," I say in my best reprimanding voice.

But she just rolls her eyes. "Oh, cut the bullshit, Lily. You haven't got much room to talk."

I try to look irritated, but I'm sure it just comes across as bored. "Fine," I mutter. "I'll get you something. Then will you do it?"

Roxie smiles brightly. "It's a deal."

And so that sets me off on a drug hunt. After spending the morning in double

Transfiguration, I make it a point to lay out the easiest route possible to find Roxie's requested "payment." The easiest, of course, is another cousin. One who is slightly older and slightly less manipulative than sweet little Roxanne.

Louis is eating a massive amount of roasted turkey with his mates when I find him in the Great Hall at lunch. It's disgusting what fifteen year old boys can shove in their mouths, isn't it? I slide onto the bench beside him, and the three boys who're sitting with him shoveling food into their gobs all look up mesmerized. I tend to have that effect on boys, so it isn't really all that surprising.

"What's up?" Louis asks, swallowing a big gulp of pumpkin juice to help the turkey down.

"I need your help," I say simply. "I need drugs. Can you hook me up?"

Louis shoves another huge bite into his mouth and shakes his head, "I'm dry," he says through his mouthful. "Sorry."

"Christ, Louis," I snap hatefully. "What fucking good are you?" He shrugs. "And close your fucking mouth when you eat, that's disgusting."

"I can hook you up." I look over at the speaker, and it's some peaky boy with dark hair and a crooked mouth.

"Who the fuck are you?" I ask, not bothering with politeness.

"Kenneth," he says, and his smile is just as crooked as the rest of his mouth. "I can hook you up. What do you need?"

I look at him disdainfully. "Spliff. Or decent pills. What've you got?"

"I can get you anything, sweetheart."

I try to suppress my automatic urge to vomit. "My name is Lily," I say flatly.

"Sorry, _Lily," _he says with a disgusting little smirk. "I can hook you up."

I raise my eyebrows at him for a few seconds and then look over at Louis who shrugs disinterestedly. Then I sigh loudly. "Fine. Let's go."

I take him upstairs to Gryffindor Tower, and when he tries to chat on the way, I hold my hand up and silence him. This isn't a "chatting" opportunity. The sooner it's over and done with, the better. Just climbing the stairs with him makes me want to be sick.

"Out," I say sharply to a group of Second Years who are playing a game of Snap by the fire once we reach the Common Room. They immediately do as I say and scatter out the Portrait Hole. I put my hands on my hips and turn around to look at Kenneth expectantly. "Okay, where're the drugs?"

"Aren't you going to offer me something first?"

I cringe and roll my eyes. "What do you want?"

"A shag."

"Forget it." I narrow my eyes at him hatefully.

"Fine then," he concedes a lot more easily than I expect. "A blow job."

I snort and roll my eyes. "In your dreams."

And Kenneth looks put out and annoyed. "Look, do you want the drugs or not?" he asks irritably. "You aren't just getting them for free."

He's disgusting. Really, seriously disgusting. And I think I might throw up a little bit in my mouth at any second.

"I'll give you _money," _I say slowly. "How. Much. Do. You. Want?"

"I don't want money. Hand job?"

"Ugh!" I roll my eyes and cross my arms tightly over my chest. "_Fine. _But if you tell _anyone _about this, I'll fucking cut your balls off with a butter knife, do you understand me?"

He smirks. "Sure."

Four minutes later (yes, four _minutes- _fucking small-balled wanker couldn't even last a full five!), I've got an ounce of spliff and freshly-washed hands. So I hurry off to find Roxie and deliver the goods. It's easier said than done, but I finally find her and exchange the drugs for her services, which include a spectacular swelling charm on my part. It really does look just like she's been punched in the face. Then I kiss her on the forehead and give her some last minute instructions before sending her off for her mission.

And then there's nothing to do but wait.

It's well after dinner when I finally find Hugo- or rather when _he _finds _me. _He was missing during afternoon lessons, and I didn't see him at the meal, either. It isn't until I'm sitting in the Common Room doing a bit of Charms revision that he comes up to me and stands over me ominously. I look up at him slowly because I haven't got the faintest clue why he's just standing there like that.

"What's up?" I finally ask when he says nothing.

He simply glares at me in response. He continues to glare for a really long time, and then he finally grabs me by the arm, jerks me out of my chair and pulls me out of the Common Room and into the mostly-empty corridor.

"What the hell is your problem?" I ask, yanking my arm away and returning the glare.

"Stay. the. fuck. out. of. my. _life!" _He speaks in a very pointed, very choppy sort of way, and his voice gets louder and louder with each syllable.

"Oh, get over it, Hugo," I say, sneering. Obviously Roxie's blabbed or something. Somehow he's figured out what I put her up to, she's as fucking useless as my friends. But I don't care. He isn't going to talk to me like that.

"No!" he snaps. "I'm sick of you!"

"Oh, boo hoo." I roll my eyes.

"You ruin people's lives, do you know that?" he asks without missing a beat. "You honestly fuck people over, and you don't even fucking care!"

"Oh, come off it. You act like I killed somebody. It was for a laugh. Take a fucking joke."

"I don't even know how you got this way!" he says, and he really does seem a bit disbelieving. "You're just like… _evil!"_

"Oh, and you're some goddamned saint, right?" I glare at him. "I was trying to do you a favor, by the way, but you can bet I'll never do _that _again."

"I didn't ask you to do me any favors. I didn't ask you to do _anything! _You just… You just stick your nose in other people's business and do whatever the hell you want whenever the hell you want because you think everyone on the whole fucking planet should just bow down to you and do whatever pops into your head at any given second!"

"You're so full of shit." I shake my head. "Did it ever cross your tiny little mind that _maybe _that bitch has been lying all along? Something doesn't sit right with that story, Hugo, and maybe I'm the only one who sees it, but I'm trying to save you from making the biggest mistake of your pathetic little life."

"Just fucking stay out of it!" he says, and this time it's actually more like a screech. It almost seems like I've hit a nerve, and his face is now completely red. "It's got nothing to do with you."

"Fine!" I snap back. "I hope you and that fat cow live out teenage pregnancy bliss and have a fantastic life!"

He looks around hurriedly to make sure no one's eavesdropping. There isn't anyone around, and when he's satisfied of such, he turns back to me and narrows his eyes.

"Just leave it alone, Lily."

I glare back at him and then I turn around fuming and storm back into the Common Room. There aren't a whole lot of people in there, but a lot of people are still downstairs at dinner. It doesn't matter anyway. I don't even care to talk to any of the meaningless pathetic people in this bloody school. They're all a bunch of useless bitches and pricks anyhow, and I'm sick and tired of the whole fucking lot.

And I'm _especially _tired of a certain holier-than-thou arsehole of a cousin who thinks he can rage at me and get away with it. He should know better than anyone not to fuck with me.

I _always _get the last say.

When I make it up to the dormitory, no one's around. In fact, the only noise at all is coming from beside Amanda's bed where her pet owl, Pringo, is hooting softly on his perch. My hands are sweating just thinking about it, but he should know better. He isn't going to fucking get away with it.

Years of being friends with Amanda Longbottom and even more years of living with her have taught me many things. The most useful at the moment is that she always keeps personalized stationery from her mum's pub tucked away in her bottom drawer. She's used it for years, and I find it easily.

I grab a quill and take a deep breath before scribbling away a short message on the Leaky Cauldron stationery.

_The Minister of Magic's middle-child, Hugo Weasley, is expecting a child with his girlfriend, Maria Martinez, in mid-June. Hugo and Maria are both seventeen._

_Sincerely,_

_  
A. Longbottom_

I stare at what I've written, and my stomach hurts a little bit. I only hesitate a few seconds, though, before sealing the letter and addressing it to _The Daily Prophet. _I grab an owl treat and feed it to Pringo before attaching the letter to his ankle and ruffling his feathers. Then I open the letter and send him out.

And for maybe the first time in my life, I actually feel a bit worried about repercussions.

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A/N: Sooooooo…. Hate Lily much? Ha! I still kinda love her, but she's just too much fun to write…. Thanks for everyone who's been reading and reviewing- you guys are the best!


	26. Hugo, February 16th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 26

**HUGO**

**February 16****th**

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mum and Dad took me straight out of school the very same day that the newspaper went out.

I didn't even know about it yet, I just got told by Neville that I was to go down to Hogsmeade and then from there, Apparate back to London because my parents had sent for me. When I asked him what had happened, he said he didn't know (though, of course, he was lying), and so I spent the next half hour packing a bag and worrying that someone was dead or something. Everyone asked me where I was going and why I was leaving, but I didn't have any answers for them. When Amanda asked me when I'd be back, I just told her I didn't know and that I'd have to write her and let her know what was going on. I told her she could ask her dad, too, and perhaps he would tell her something after I'd gone. Lily didn't even bother asking, which is beyond fucked up considering the fact that if someone _had _died, there was a very good possibility that it would be someone in her family as well.

But she's a bit of selfish bitch who doesn't really care about anyone in the world except for herself. So really, I shouldn't be surprised.

I'm new to Apparating, and I've never Apparated more than a few miles, so I was more than a bit nervous anticipating the long distance as I made the walk from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade.

However, I got a lot more than a _bit _nervous when I finally arrived in the village.

As it was a Saturday, the mail at school was only running in the afternoon. No one had yet received the morning paper, so, therefore, no one had yet seen the blazing headline that jumped out at me the second I passed the first newsstand in the village.

_**PROPHET EXCLUSIVE: **_

_**MINISTER'S TEENAGED SON EXPECTING CHILD WITH UNWED TEEN GIRLFRIEND**_

I stared at the newspaper for probably two straight minutes, just staring at the headline as I tried to remember to breathe. The words were blurring by the time I finally snapped out of it and dropped a couple of coins into the hand of the attendant before grabbing a paper and hurrying off. I didn't stop until I found a secluded space between two buildings where I could hide and read the article.

_The latest scandal to rock the Ministry of Magic comes in the form of two seventeen year old students._

The Minister of Magic's teenaged son, Hugo Weasley, is expecting a child with his seventeen year old girlfriend, Maria Martinez. 

The Daily Prophet_ can exclusively reveal that the baby is due to be born in early to mid June, around the same time that both parents are set to sit their NEWTs. Both Weasley and Martinez are Seventh Year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and a tip from a fellow student came late yesterday that the new couple are expecting a child. _The Prophet _confirmed the news last night through a series of investigative measures and breaks the exclusive news to you today._

_It is unclear at this time whether the Ministry was previously aware of the pregnancy, but a statement should be expected shortly. Hugo is the middle child of the Minister and her husband, Auror Ronald Weasley. The family has faced many personal issues in the recent years, including the kidnapping of their eldest child and only daughter, Rose, almost eight years ago. _

_More details will be reported as they emerge._

The stupid article said nothing, and yet, it said more than I ever wanted to hear. Or read, I suppose. I couldn't believe it. I was literally in shock as I read the words, but what could I do? It had happened. My worst fear had finally come true. It struck me that everyone in the world (and more importantly Hogwarts) was now going to find out about the baby, probably within the matter of a few hours. I felt bad realizing that Maria was going to be stuck at school all alone while I was going to be in London (doing what? hiding? press conferences?).

But then I realized I didn't feel _that _horrible, and that made me feel worse.

I didn't think anything else about it. The good thing was that I was too distracted by the newspaper to worry an awful lot about the impending Apparation. I grabbed my bag, spun around in place, and a few moments later, found myself only about a half-mile off target. Luckily, no one was around to witness my sudden appearance, which is a good thing considering the fact that we live in a neighborhood full of Muggles. The short walk home was uneventful, and when I arrived at the house, I wasn't even sure Mum and Dad were home- the house was quiet and seemingly empty.

I was wrong, though.

When I got to the door, not only were my parents home, but so was half the Ministry. Apparently, I was walking in on some sort of impromptu press emergency or something, as everyone was talking hurriedly about what to say and when to say it. At first, no one even noticed my arrival, but finally my dad saw me and quickly rushed me into the kitchen.

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Have you seen the paper?" He walked over to the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a brand new bottle of whiskey. He seemed shockingly calm, surprisingly.

I held up the copy that I was still clutching in my hand. "Yeah," I said dully as I watched him pull down to glasses and fill them both. He slid one over to me and then turned around to lean against the counter.

"Then you know what's going on. Someone's told the paper, and now the whole world knows."

I looked at the whiskey, not quite sure if it was a trick or not. But when I looked at him, he was just sipping his drink calmly.

"So what're we going to do?" I asked nervously, and he shrugged.

"Not much to do now, mate. It's over and done with, isn't it?"

"But…." I didn't know what to say. "But how did they find out?"

"Someone at Hogwarts apparently." He took another drink and shrugged again. "It doesn't matter anyway. They were going to find out sooner or later."

I just looked at him, still without a clue as to whether he was being serious or playing a very evil trick on me. Just as I picked up the glass, though, Mum walked into the kitchen and grabbed it from me.

"I don't think so."

"Hermione, he's going to have a kid in a few months, I think it's alright if he has a drink." Dad said this as completely disinterestedly as all his other statements as he continued to lean against the counter and sip absently at his own drink.

Apparently Mum didn't agree, though, because she turned the glass up and drank it herself. I just looked on as Dad wordlessly held out the bottle to her so that she could refill it. It was an odd situation for sure, to be in the kitchen with both of my parents drinking hard liquor while my own face looked up at me from the newspaper on the counter.

"So…" I finally said quietly when it seemed as if they'd both forgot that I was even in the room. "What're we going to do?"

Mum sighed rather loudly and then, in a very un-Mum-like sort of way, pushed herself up until she was sitting on the counter with her feet dangling over the edge. "We'll just tell the truth," she said matter-of-factly, and then she shrugged as if it was no big deal.

And then I was _positive _they were pulling a cruel prank on me.

"So what?" I asked, disbelievingly. "We're just going to say, _'Oh, that's right, he's knocked her up, and no, her parents don't know, but I'm sure they do now! And no, they were not dating when it happened, but no big, everything's fantastic!'?" _ I looked at them as if they'd both gone mad.

But mum just nodded. "Well, yes, basically. I mean, what can we do about it now?"

"Are you fucking with me?" I asked in total shock.

Mum, naturally, took the opportunity to narrow her eyes at me and say, "Language…" disapprovingly.

I ignored her, of course. "So that's it then? Shit happens and just deal with it, right? That's what we're going to say?"

"There's nothing else _to _say. It's the truth, isn't it? We can't very well deny it when there'll be hardcore proof in a few months, now can we?"

Yes, actually, we can.

I thought it, of course, but I didn't say it. I don't know why, though, as something inside of me was damn near bursting with the truth right at that moment. I wanted very badly to tell them that we could deny it because it was all a lie and that I _wasn't_ having a child and that they _weren't _inches away from being grandparents.

But I didn't.

I just shook my head and looked back down at the paper, feeling more and more ill to my stomach by the second. I could sense my parents eyeing each other, and I had a feeling that maybe they weren't quite as calm as they were letting on. It seemed, though, that they'd come to an agreement to be calm for my sake. Or at least that's what I told myself in that moment- it made me feel better.

"Are you going to make a statement or what?" I asked, looking over at Mum as she continued to sip her drink. She nodded slowly. "Well, when?"

"Later," she said calmly. "They're putting something together." She nodded toward the general direction of the sitting room where loads of voices were still audible.

"You don't have to help?"

"It'll be fine," she said dismissively, and then she glanced over at Dad before looking back to me. "We want talk to you."

And there it was.

It was coming. They were about to lay into me and give out to me for being the biggest fuck-up disappointment they could ever imagine. They were about to point out that my sister was in a _serious _relationship (or at least she was up until recently) and that she had never accidentally found herself in my predicament. They were about to say all the things that parents say to their children when they end up in the middle of a teenage pregnancy scandal. Dad had said his share already, but Mum had remained eerily calm about the whole thing. And that was about it to change.

Except it didn't.

"This is going to be a big change," Mum started out slowly. "And I know you don't want to hear it probably, but we just want you to know that," she drew in a slow breath, "it's going to be alright."

I looked over at her, and I could see how worried she was and how scared she was, but she was trying really hard to keep things as normal as possible. For my sake. Dad, too, was trying his best not to be angry any longer. He was trying to let it go and accept it and _not _turn it into a tragedy.

And maybe neither one of them really _believed _it, but they were at least trying.

"So anything you need," she went on seriously, "we'll help you. You know we're always here for you, right?"

I looked at her silently and nodded, and then I looked over at Dad who raised his eyebrows in my direction. He wasn't going to be as sappy as Mum and tell me all about how much they support me and how they'd do anything for me and give me anything, but he meant it nonetheless. And so, at least for that moment, everything seemed okay.

Now I'm back in the real world, though, and I can assure you, everything is _not _okay.

See, not only am I back in the real world, I'm also back in _school. _School, if you don't know, is the only place crueler than the so-called real world. Why? Because it's full of gossipy teenagers who pretend to be your friend and then talk shit about you the second your back is turned. Sometimes they don't even pretend to be your friend. Sometime, they're just evil straight to your face- I don't know which is worse.

Maria's left school altogether. Her parents were _furious _when they found out and tried to make her leave right away, but she's seventeen and legal to make her own decisions, so she refused. It didn't take long, though- only about two or three days of hearing the horrible things being said about her- before she was leaving voluntarily. I actually tried to stop her, but she told me that she couldn't handle being around it anymore. She said maybe she'd finish school later, if she could manage while raising an infant. I doubt that's very possible, so I'm fairly certain she's seen the last of her education.

I can't blame her, though, not really. The things that they've been saying about and to Maria are a million times worse than anything's saying to me. I can't work out whether that's more to do with the fact that I don't have to wear the evidence of the whole thing under my jumper or more to do with who my parents are. Maybe it's a bit of both. Or maybe Lily's threatened to destroy anyone who says anything awful to me. That's probably not it, though, considering Lily hasn't said much of anything at all to me since the news broke. I suppose she's pissed off at me after I told her to stay the fuck out of my business. I don't know what the big damn deal is, though, seeing as how we've had probably four million different arguments in our lives and they're over and done with as soon as it's finished. Now, if I didn't know better, I'd say she's so angry with me that she's flat out avoiding me.

I can't force myself to care too much, though. After all, I'm in the middle of what's apparently classified as a public scandal, and that takes up a bit more of my focus than worrying whether or not my cousin's hacked off at me. You'd think, though, that she would show at least a _bit _of sympathy towards me after the whole thing broke. She was, after all, one of the few people who knew about it beforehand, so you'd think that maybe she'd want to offer a few words of regret when the entire sodding world found out… But no, she doesn't apparently.

Which brings us, of course, to who spilled the news in the first place.

_The Prophet _isn't giving up their top-secret source. Not for free anyway… And, of course, Mum and Dad refuse to give in and pay for it. I suppose they think they can find out using other means- like legal action or something. I don't know anything about any of that, so I just stay out of it. They'll handle it, I suppose, and sooner or later, we'll find out, I guess. But does it even matter at this point? I mean, it's got to be some bitter Hufflepuff or something who picked up on Maria's symptoms and went straight to the papers. And do we even care that much? I mean, what's done is done, isn't it? It's not as if we can go back and change any of it now.

It's not as if I can go back and turn the whole thing around…

Amanda, at least, is there for me and seems to give a shit about how this is all affecting me. Unlike Lily, she's actually been really sympathetic. That's a bit surprising, seeing as how she hasn't exactly been my biggest fan lately. Ever since we found out about the baby, she's been a little standoffish and weird towards me. But she's my best friend, so when shit happens, I suppose she'll always be there. And that's nice. I really appreciate that. It means a lot to me that she actually gives a shit, since outside of my parents, she seems to be the only person. Even Rose hasn't bothered to say, _"Oh, sorry, mate, that sucks." _She hasn't bothered to say anything at all, but that's because she probably spends all day long locked up in her bedroom looking through gossip magazines to angst over Scorpius and whoever he's fucking on any given day. I'm honestly surprised she hasn't tried to off herself yet, but that would probably be a bit too dramatic even for her.

But speaking of Amanda, I've got a whole other set of issues there.

Ever since Maria put the idiotic idea in my head that maybe Amanda might fancy me or something, I can't stop thinking about it. Worse even, I can't stop wondering if maybe it's true and if maybe _I _fancy _her_ as well. I never thought about it before; I never even really _saw _her that way, but now that the idea's there, I can't get it out of my head. It's making things weird and uncomfortable- even more than they are already with the whole baby thing and what have you.

And she seems to be noticing, too.

"Hugo," she snaps irritably when I'm, once again, caught not paying attention. We're in Potions, and we're supposed to be working on Wolfsbane, but I'm not focused at all, and apparently Amanda isn't too pleased by it. "Are you going to do _anything _besides sit there?"

I look at the ingredients laid out in front of us and the cauldron that, so far, isn't even bubbling. Amanda's got the book open to the appropriate page, but she hasn't made much progress in getting anything going. That's not surprising. She and I are both pretty much shit at Potions, so we're both sort of "sit and wait" people.

"Have you got any clue how to do this?" I whisper, looking out of the corner of my eye at Professor Montague who is busy doing nothing at his desk.

"No, but I know it doesn't involve sitting there doing nothing," she hisses back. And then she starts to work measuring the ingredients. At least it's pretty difficult to fuck _that _part up, so we're okay with that bit. It's a start at least.

I watch her as she measures out the ingredients and sets them aside for mixing. I shouldn't look at her like this. It's weird, and it feels wrong- like I'm overstepping some sort of invisible line or something. But at the same time, I can't help myself. Lately, all I want to _ever _do is look at her.

And so we finish up in Potions and somehow manage not to cause any explosions. It's a miracle, of course, because I'm pretty sure you'd be hard pressed to find two _less _competent people in NEWT level Potions. But finally we're done, and we can get out of the dungeons and back to normal civilization.

Or as normal as it can be anyway when people are whispering behind your back at every sodding turn.

The rest of the day passes dully, and all day long I continue to stare at Amanda and wonder if there's any truth at all to the insane notion of her looking at me the same way. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. I'm bloody obsessed apparently because I can't stop it. And if she notices, she probably thinks I'm mental or something because it certainly isn't normal to be staring down your best mate that way. Or at least I can't imagine that it is.

And then that night, of course, we get fucked.

It's something that's happening a bit more and more as the year goes on. I suppose everyone just thinks that it's our last year, and what does it really fucking matter if we spend a good part of it drunk? Every single weekend, the whole Common Room is filled with people getting pissed and getting high. The amount of drugs that make their away around our school is alarmingly high and would probably give our parents' heart attacks if they knew half of what went on. Amanda hates drugs, and she absolutely never, ever does any sort.

She certainly hasn't got anything against getting drunk off her head, though.

Tonight is just like every other Friday night. Some people are trying to shag each other, some people are shouting at each other, and some people are just too fucked to do much of anything. As much fun as alcohol can be, though, it's also quite terrifying because it really does make you do things you wouldn't otherwise normally do. Which is probably why it all happens the way it does.

Amanda's half drunk by the time she suddenly decides she needs a book from the library, and I should probably just let her go get the damn book by herself and be done with it, but I offer to go with her. And so we go. I try to keep it all together, but there's so much going on in my head that it's really difficult to even _form_ a coherent thought, much less organize a whole lot of them. It seems like the past several days have been completely insane, and at this point, I'm not really thinking clearly anyway. The added effect of the alcohol only helps.

We make small talk on the way down to the library, and she seems to be in a much better mood with me than she has been lately. I can only assume, of course, that much of this has to do with the fact that she's got several shots of firewhiskey in her system. I can't particularly gather how this makes her more eager to study and to grab books from the library, but who am I to question?

The library's empty, of course, because who goes to the library on Friday night? No one, except for us apparently. I bet my mum was a Friday night library dweller- she seems the type- but I'm certainly not, so it's weird to be in here all alone. It's so big and quiet, it's almost sort of creepy. Amanda takes her time browsing the shelves looking for a book to help her with her Herbology homework. I don't know why she bothers, it isn't as if her dad's going to fail her or anything. And who needs a NEWT in Herbology anyway unless, of course, you plan on teaching it or something like that (which Amanda definitely doesn't).

"I can't reach it," she says irritably when she finally decides on a book. "Help me."

This is quite a ridiculous demand, as I'm maybe an inch taller than her at most. I'm actually rather short, which I must get from my mum because my dad and my sister are both abnormally tall. Landon's still little for his age, but he'll probably grow up to be the tallest of us all. But even though I'm not much taller than her, I still go up on tiptoe to try and reach the book she's requesting.

It's pointless.

Then I remember something that we often seem to forget- magic. I use my wand to Summon the book down off the shelf and hand it to her. She flips through it mindlessly and then nods. "Looks good," she says happily. "You ready to go back upstairs?"

But then she drops the book, and we both bend down at the same time to pick it up. It's very cliché, but it's that moment that we end up face to face and really close. And she looks at me very strangely, probably noticing the fact that I currently want to grab her and kiss her and just see if there's anything there- after all, I'm quite sure it's evident on my face as well.

But I don't do that.

I just look at her, and she looks back. And then she stands up, leaving the book on the floor where it fell. I pick it up, stand, and hand it to her.

"Thanks," she mumbles. And then it's weird. I don't really know why, seeing as how it's certainly not the first time that we've been that close to each other. We've known each other pretty much since the day we were born, so I don't know why everything is suddenly so weird. Except that's a lie because I _do _know why. It's weird because I like her in a way I never even considered until a few weeks ago.

And I want to fucking know if she feels the same way!

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks quietly a few seconds later. She looks uncomfortable, and I feel bad for making it awkward, so I look away and break eye contact.

"Sorry," I mutter. But it's still weird, and I still want to know. And the liquid courage I recently swallowed really doesn't help me just turn around and go back upstairs. So I do it.

I ask her.

Or at least I attempt to.

"Did you ever think about what would happen if we…" It's a difficult sentence to finish, and she looks at me strangely.

"If we what?" she asks when it's clear that I'm not going to finish the question.

I still don't finish it. I just stand there like an idiot with what must be a terribly stupid look on my face because a few moments later, Amanda breaks into little giggles. I don't know why- probably because she's drunk.

So then I kiss her.

I don't really mean to, I don't think. It's not like it was exactly premeditated- I mean, sure I _thought _about it, but I didn't really plan on _doing _anything about it. But there it is. I kiss her, and she stops giggling almost instantly,

And then she pulls away.

Now it's _really _weird, and she looks like she's about to have a panic attack or something. I _feel _like I'm about to have one. It's awful. And I really wish I had a Time Turner, so I could go back a few seconds and take it all back.

"Why did you do that?" she asks quietly, and she looks at me very seriously. I have a feeling that we both sobered up pretty much immediately.

I don't have an answer, so I just lower my eyes to the floor and say nothing.

"You have a girlfriend," she goes on, apparently not caring that I didn't answer her.

I answer that one, though. "No, I don't." It's more of a mutter than an answer, but I know she hears it because she demands an explanation.

"Then what is she?"

I shrug. I still don't look up, and I don't say anything, either. I don't _know _what Maria is. I only know what she _isn't._

Amanda, though, apparently isn't really up for the whole bullshit thing because she cuts right to it. "She's _pregnant," _she says flatly. "She's having _your _baby, so maybe you need to figure it out."

"No, she's not."

I say it without thinking, but once it's out there, I don't regret it. Just saying it out loud seems to relieve about a million pounds of pressure that's weighing on my head. The silence that follows it is incredibly loud and incredibly awkward, but I still force myself to finally look up. Amanda's staring at me wordlessly.

"It's not mine."

"_What?" _she finally asks, and she looks at me as if I'm completely mental. Maybe I am. In fact, I _know _I am.

"It's not mine," I repeat, and I feel awful and fantastic all at the same time. "I just said it was because she was too scared to do it by herself…"

Amanda looks like maybe she wants to murder me, and I can't really blame her. She doesn't say anything for another really long minute; she just looks at me in disbelief and shakes her head.

"You've been lying to me…"

"I've been lying to _everyone!" _I say, completely exasperated. I feel bad, but I also feel really liberated, as if I've just been set free. Free from an awful secret that I shouldn't have kept in the first place. "No one knows."

"Why would you _do _that? You don't even _know _her!"

And I just shake my head because I don't know the answer to that question. She doesn't say anything else for a long time, and we just stare at each other.

"I'm sorry," I finally say quietly. "I don't know what to do…"

And then she shakes her own head really quickly, drops the book, grabs my face, and kisses me again. A couple of books fall off the shelf as she shoves me back up against it pretty roughly. And now I _know _she's still a bit drunk because she certainly isn't the type to shove a guy up against a bookshelf and kiss the hell out of him, but that's exactly what she's doing. And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fantastic because it is.

"Don't lie to me again," she says breathlessly seconds later when she finally pulls back half an inch and looks at me.

I just shake my head because I haven't got any words at all.

And then she kisses me again, and I kiss her back. And it really _is _amazing.

And suddenly, I don't really care what the newspapers or anyone else has to say. It doesn't really matter at all.

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A/N: Sorry for the small delay- this one kept getting blocked on me. Thanks for reading, please review!


	27. James, February 25th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 27

**JAMES**

**February 25****th**

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Kate is the most beautiful girl in the entire world.

She's not beautiful in the fake, glossy magazine sort of way- she's beautiful in the _real _way. She's got about a million so-called "imperfections" that make her absolutely _perfect. _Her nose is a little bit crooked and goes a bit more to the right than the center. Her upper lip is a tad larger than her lower lip, which makes her smile just slightly lopsided. She hasn't got any nails at all, as she bites them all right down to the quick- it's a bad habit she's had for as long as I've ever known her.

And she's _perfect._

And I love her.

I suppose I've probably never _stopped _loving her, even though I tried really hard to convince myself that I had. Or that maybe I never loved her in the first place. But I did- I _do. _I mean, I know that because out of the hundreds of other girls I've known, I've never, ever felt like that about anyone other than Kate. In my whole life. You know, like I just want to kiss her all the time, every single second of the day. I'd be completely content just kissing her and nothing else (well, that's probably a lie, but you get the idea). And I want to hold her hand. And hug her. And just _listen _to her, you know, because she's absolutely brilliant, and every single thing she says is interesting.

The past couple of months or so have been amazing- probably the best ever. I get to be with her nearly all the time, and when I'm not with her, at least I get to know that I'll be seeing her shortly. We can't go out in public because of all the photographers and that shit, so we mostly stay home in either her flat or mine, and it's brilliant. Really. I mean, who knew that life could be fun without all the glitz and the glare of the cameras and the eager autograph seekers? It feels incredibly normal, which is something I think I may have forgot existed until just recently.

So yes, I've always loved her.

And now I've got her back.

Except not really.

I may have her back for the time being, but she's engaged. She's going to marry some fucking French tosser who probably hasn't got a clue in hell how to love her. And I know he doesn't feel the same way about her that I do, not even close. And I know _she _doesn't feel that way, either. We don't normally discuss her fiancé or anything having to do with him, but I can tell she doesn't want him the way she wants me. If she did, she wouldn't _be _with me. She couldn't because it would hurt him, and when you love someone that much, you don't want to do anything in the world that might hurt them.

I would _never _hurt her.

Not intentionally anyway.

Not everyone feels the same way I do, though. Al says it's really a load of shit that I think she's going to suddenly wake up and realize that she doesn't love the man she's engaged to be married to. He says that if she were going to be with me, she would have already ditched the prick and made it official. But, of course, she hasn't. She hasn't made any sort of indication that she plans on ditching him, either. But that doesn't mean she won't. She just needs time.

It's just too bad that I suck at waiting.

I'm sort of an impatient person. I like instant gratification, which is nothing new, of course. I've always been that way. But magically making a girl fall in love with you and leave her fiancé is a bit more difficult than having a quick wank and swallowing a couple of pills. There's no instant gratification to it.

So I'll just have to work it out some other sort of way, won't I?

And what the hell does Al know anyway? He's shagging some girl that could get them both fired, and he's never in his life ever had a _serious _relationship. He always likes girls who don't like him back, or he ends up getting his feelings hurt because he's thick enough to think that whatever girl he's fucking is sleeping with him for some other reason besides his name. That's where we're different- I never make that mistake, I never think that there's anything more to it. But he's a bit too idealistic to realize that most women (and men, for that matter) are just materialistic sluts who don't give a damn about anything besides money and power.

But Kate isn't like that. And maybe that's why I'm so obsessed with her- because she's the only girl I've ever met who couldn't give two shits who my dad is or how much money I may or may not have. She knows _me, _really knows me in a way not many people do- in a way _no _other women do. But that's because I really feel like she's more than just someone I want to have sex with, she really _is _like a best friend.

But, of course, I enjoy having sex with her, too…

She's making dinner when I show up at her flat, and she looks sexy as hell standing at the stove in a tracksuit and socks. Her hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail, and the makeup that was probably carefully applied this morning is smearing a bit by now, so her eyes are ringed with smoky mascara smudges.

She turns around and wrinkles her nose up at me. "You need a shower," she says pointedly, and then she laughs and turns back around to the stove where she's making… pasta- I can see now when I walk up behind her and lean in close.

"That's not a very friendly welcome," I say, feigning offense, and she rolls her eyes and turns around so that her back is to the stove and she's facing me.

"I'm sorry," she says, and she doesn't sound sorry at all. But she does go up on her tiptoes to kiss me, and her hands wind around the back of my head. She purses her lips and presses them tightly against mine for maybe five seconds before lowering herself back down to her normal height. "Is that better?"

I nod. She smirks and then lowers her hands from my head, looks at them, wrinkles her nose again, and then wipes them on the front of my shirt.

"That's disgusting."

I laugh and lean back in closer. "It's just a bit of sweat. _Manly_ sweat."

"Well, take your _manly _self to the shower and clean up. Because it's _gross."_

Kate's never been a fan of my post-Quidditch practice smell- not when we were kids and not now. I think she probably secretly likes it, though, but she has to keep up the front of thinking it's disgusting.

"You could come shower with me," I suggest, smiling brightly and somewhat innocently, which, of course, she sees right through as she rolls her eyes again and shakes her head.

"You go take a shower. I'll finish dinner. Deal?"

I nod regrettably. "Deal…"

And so I follow her instructions and head off to the bathroom. Her shower is filled with all sorts of girly soaps and shampoos, and I won't even lie and say it doesn't smell nice. I'm man enough to admit that I enjoy flowery-scented soap and strawberry shampoo. When I'm done in the shower, I grab some clothes out the drawer she's cleared out for me and head back into the kitchen where she's draining the pasta.

"Better?" I ask, and I lean against the counter beside her.

She smiles as she pours sauce over the pasta. "Much," she says, setting the empty pot back down and moving over to stand in front of me. She puts her hands on the counter on either side of me and leans in close. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," I say shrugging, and I duck my head just enough to kiss her again, which she immediately responds to. Maybe we should skip dinner and skip straight to dessert… I won't suggest it, though, because she actually cooked, and it would be terribly rude to ignore those efforts. So I settle for just kissing her a bit longer and tasting the wine she's already been sipping on her lips.

When we finally sit down to dinner, she's rambling on about something that happened at work earlier. Apparently one of the goblins got so angry that he placed a curse on the main vault, so that anyone who touched it immediately started sprouting bright green hair all over their body. She chatters on excitedly about it and laughs as she recounts one of her less than favorite coworkers returning to their department in hysterics over the new olive fur she was sporting.

She takes a sip of her wine and wipes her lips. "Sorry," she says, giggling. "Tell me about _your _day."

"It was boring," I shake my head. "I want to hear more of yours."

And I'm not lying, either. I _do _want to hear more of hers. I want to hear everything she's got to say because everything she says is interesting. I'm not normally entertained by other people's lives, but everything about her entertains me and interests me, and I just want to listen to her all the time.

Her pasta tastes fantastic, but I'm pretty sure she could deep fry shit, and I would enjoy it. We finish dinner, and she tells me all about her day at work and then tells me a story her step-brother told her about her nephew.

"Oh, I meant to ask you," she breaks off. "Can you get them tickets for the March 3rd match? It's Josh's birthday, and he'd be _so _excited to go."

"Yeah, sure," I say, shrugging. "I'm sure I can get them the box."

She smiles brightly. "Thank you. He'll love it!"

I make a mental note to clear the box for that match and to arrange some sort of changing room meet and greet with the team. I know how crazy Kate is over that kid, so making him happy will make _her _happy. And I want nothing more than to make her the happiest person on the whole planet.

When we're done eating, we take the dishes back into the kitchen and wash them the Muggle way. I'm not really sure why she feels the need to do all of cleaning without magic, but apparently she doesn't believe that doing it any other way will be as effective. I don't complain, though, because it's just that much longer that I get to spend chatting with her and listening to her.

And it also gives me the perfect opportunity to start heating her up in the kitchen.

She tries to act annoyed at first when I curl my arms around her waist and kiss the side her neck. She raises her shoulder and turns her head in what I guess is supposed to be some sort of deterrence. It doesn't work, of course, because I just tickle her a little bit, and she squeals and drops the plate she's rinsing into the sink and spins around to try and protect herself. She bites her lip to try and get rid of her giggles, but it's useless, and all I have to do is tickle her once more, and she melts like putty.

I take that opportunity and kiss her good and thoroughly. She doesn't even try to resist, and her soapy hands end up in my still damp hair as she kisses me back. She doesn't even seem to notice when I grab her by the waist and lift her effortlessly to sit on the counter. She weighs next to nothing, so lifting her is as easy as lifting air. It makes our height a bit more matched, and she's even an inch or two above me now. She leans forward, grabs my face in both her hands, and kisses me tightly. The tight kiss quickly loosens up quite a bit, and within a few seconds, it's nearly impossible to tell where one set of lips ends and the other tongue begins. It's one of those great, out of control kisses that you just _know _is going to end up in wild, passionate, out of control sex.

Somewhere in between there, I manage to unzip her track jacket and slide it off her arms. She apparently doesn't want to spend any time at all detached from me, though, because the second her arms are free, she's grabbing my face again and kissing me like her whole entire life depends on it. I love this about her. I love how she's just _into _everything. It's as if there's nothing boring about her- she does everything full-force. She barely lifts her mouth away from mine for even a second when I slide her tank top over her head and let it fall to the floor behind me.

She keeps kissing for several more minutes, and my hands go all over her body, down her waist and across her naked stomach. She finally pulls back just enough to give me a really naughty sort of smile before scooting back a bit and repositioning herself on the counter. Then she grabs me by the neck and pulls me right back to her. It's sort of an awkward position, and I have to balance myself with my hands on either side of her as we get back to the kissing. Her hands, though, are certainly not still, and now _they're _all over _me. _She's tugging on the back of my shirt, pulling it up with one hand as the other hand scrapes down my lower back and then dips into the back waistband of my jeans.

Eventually we have to breathe, so we break apart just long enough for me take advantage of her now very exposed neck. Her weak spot is right under her left ear, and I know it well. I let my tongue dip there right before barely sucking on it. It drives her mad, of course, and she falls back against the cabinets leaving herself even more exposed than before. I move in closer, and her legs close in on either side of my hips, drawing me even nearer as I finally get into a position where I don't have to balance myself and can actually use my hands. I use them to support her, actually, and I let them rest on her back in an effort to hold her up so that I can get better access to her neck and all the rest of her body.

She's got a fantastic body for kissing. She's the kind of girl who needs to be covered in kisses because anything else just doesn't seem to be enough. I bite around under her ear a bit more before moving down her neck and across to the middle of her throat. And it's there that she lets out that tiny little groan that makes me absolutely mental. I go lower then, of course, to the neon yellow bra she's currently wearing, and across her chest and lower down the center of her navel. She's got a perfectly flat stomach that's not at all toned- it's flat and smooth in a completely natural way that she's never had to work at with exercise or crash dieting. Tiny little quick kisses, just the way she likes it. And she does- like it, I mean. I know this because her hands creep up again to the back of my neck, and she gently guides my head back up her body and her neck to her lips.

And then she kisses me, all soft and innocent, and all I want to do is whisk her away somewhere and marry her on some private island or something. Well, maybe not as drastic as all that, but you get the idea. Her lips still taste a little bit like wine, and they move against mine as naturally as anything, which isn't surprising, seeing as how we've been practicing for the better part of our teenage and early adult years.

That's the thing with Kate. It's not like… like she's just some girl who is hot. There are plenty of hot women all over the place… But Kate, she's more than that. We _know _each other. We know each other better than either of us knows anyone else. And that's how I know she can't possibly really be in love with that French bastard. He doesn't know her like I do. And she doesn't know him like she knows me. So there's no way it can mean even half as much.

So then I resort to begging.

"Katie…" I whisper her name against her lips, and she pulls back just a bit to look at me. She looks a little bit dazed, and she just raises her eyebrows slightly in question. "Leave him." I lean back in and kiss her again, slow and meaningfully so that she can really understand where I'm coming from and how serious I am. "Please… Leave him and be with me…"

"James…" She's breathless, but I don't let her finish. I just want to kiss her again, so I do. My hands slide up her back and around to the sides of her neck.

"You don't love him," I tell her quietly, letting my lips slide to the corner of her mouth and then down her jaw line right to where my hand is resting on her neck. "I know you don't… But I love _you…"_

"James-" she tries again, but I cut her off again with another kiss. I don't want to listen to her tell me that I don't love her or that I'm lying. I've listened to her say that too many times, and I don't know how much more of that I can take.

"Just leave him, okay?" I plead quietly. "You feel this, too, I know you do… We're supposed to be together, Katie…" She's always been pretty useless against Katie. She can't help it. "Me and you."

This time, it's _her _who initiates the kiss, and she grabs me and presses her lips tightly against mine. I can tell just by her kisses that she feels it and that knows, too. She knows it's supposed to be the two of us. Period. That's how it should have _always _been.

"I'll give you anything," I promise her, but it's just a whisper because I'm a bit too breathless to speak as well. "_Everything… _Anything in the world you want, I can give it to you." I brush my lips against her ear. "Just _leave _him. _Please."_

"James," and she's whispering, too. She puts her hands against my shoulders and leans back enough to actually look at me. She's staring at me, and her eyes wander over me quickly before locking back on mine. "I have to tell you something." She looks scared to death, and for a moment or two, I stupidly think she's _finally _going to say she loves me back.

But, of course, she doesn't.

She says something that I don't even comprehend at first.

"I don't have a fiancé."

There's silence after that, and I just stare at her. I don't know what the fuck she's talking about, and from the looks of it, she hasn't got a clue where to go after that statement. Probably because it's the most ludicrous thing she's ever said.

And so I just shake my head. "… Sorry?"

"I…" She frowns and looks away. I feel extremely sick all of a sudden. "I _did… _but we broke up…" She looks back over at me, and I can tell she's starting to regret opening her mouth because I can see the wavering freak out right behind her nervous eyes. "That's why I came back to England…" She finishes even more quietly than she started.

Why she came back to England… What the _fuck? _I'm in shock, literal shock, and she finally has to prompt me into responding.

"James, say something…" I can barely hear her, but it works and snaps me out of my shock.

"The whole fucking time?!" I ask incredulously. "You've been lying this _whole fucking time?!"_

"I was scared…" she mumbles.

"_Scared?! _Scared of _what?"_

And then her eyes start watering. "Of _you," _she says quietly. I just stare at her, or maybe it's a glare. She doesn't say anything, and the silence pounds away at us. Finally, I decide I'm through with it.

"Fuck this," I say hatefully, and I turn around to go find my wand so that I get the hell out of there, but she slides off the counter and grabs my arm.

"James, wait!" I glare down at her, and she looks panicked and pleading all at the same time. "Just…" She shakes her head as if she's trying to get her thoughts together. "We can be together!"

Is she _mental? _

I glare at her. For a really long minute. I don't know if I can ever remember feeling such anger in my entire life. "You lied to me," I say slowly. Evenly… And then I jerk my arm away roughly. "Fucking lying _bitch!"_

She pulls back to hit me, but I catch her hand easily. I glare at her, and she glares at me. There's enough evil anger radiating between us to cause an explosion. It's a stare down challenge as we stand there glaring at each other, me still gripping her wrist tightly in the same position I caught it when she attempted to hit me.

"Let me go," she says slowly, her voice now oozing as much anger as mine.

I narrow my eyes and grip her even more tightly for a second before letting go roughly with enough force so that she stumbles backwards and bumps into the counter behind her.

I don't even give a shit.

Apparently she does, though, because she's now pissed the hell off. And seeing as her wand is nowhere in sight, she does the next best thing after hexing me. She picks up the pasta pot she was previously cleaning and hurls it. Right at my head. Luckily for me, I'm a professional Quidditch player, so I'm pretty good at ducking away from objects that come flying at my head. I almost died from a Bludger to the head when I was eighteen, so I learned my lesson pretty easily there. I duck out of the way, and the pot smashes into the wall behind me.

She lets out a frustrated scream, but I just straighten up and give her the most hateful look I can manage. It isn't difficult.

"You can go fuck yourself," I tell her seriously. And I can't help myself from adding a muttered, "Lying bitch," to the end of it.

"You get the fuck out of my house!" she screams as she follows me into the sitting room where my wand is lying. I ignore her as I dig around the sofa to find wherever it's dropped. "You fucking bastard! Don't you ever fucking even _speak _to me again! I hate you!"

"You know what?" I ask hatefully, spinning back around and glaring at her. But then I just shake my head. "Forget it. You're just a fucking liar."

She gapes at me. "You're the biggest goddamned liar I've ever met in my entire _life!" _she shouts. "Who the fuck are _you _to say _shit _to me?!"

"I never lied to _you!" _I shout back without even thinking. She stares at me, still fuming, but she says nothing. I realize how out of breath I am, and I take a second before I go on. My voice lowers itself to a more normal, non-shouty tone. "Everything I've ever said to you has been the truth. _Ever," _I say very pointedly.

She doesn't say anything. She just continues to stare at me, and her shirtless chest moves up and down in heavy, even breaths as she looks on at me angrily.

And then I finally spot my want tucked between the sofa cushions. I don't say anything else to her. I just grab it and Disapparate, landing right in the middle of my own flat. I'm fuming by this point, but I'm also gutted. Honestly, I don't know _what _to feel.

She's a _liar._

I hate her.

But I fucking _love _her.

I let out a low, frustrated growl. And then, because I have nothing else to hit, I ball my hand into a fist and slam it as hard as I can straight at the wall. It breaks through the plaster at the same moment my bones break through my skin. My hand screams in pain, and I squeeze my eyes shut against it as I yank my fist out of the large hole that now rests in my corridor wall. And then, because I apparently enjoying adding even more physical pain to the mental type, I bang my head against the same wall and hit it again.

By this time, I barely even notice the blood dripping from my fingers or the pounding in my head…

It's better than thinking. At this point, anything is.

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A/N: So that was a shorter wait. Hopefully you guys won't hate me too much….


	28. Everyone

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 28

**EVERYONE**

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Ron had felt useless many times in his life.

When he was a child, he often felt useless simply existing. Being the youngest of six boys who wasn't actually the youngest of the family was a tough position to grow up in. It was, well, a _useless _spot. It didn't matter what he did, somebody had already done it. It didn't matter if he was good or bad or succeeded or failed because one of his brothers had inevitably taken care of it. And he certainly wasn't the most interesting of his family anyway- he wasn't one of the smart ones like Bill or Percy… he wasn't one of the funny ones like the twins… he wasn't the athletic one like Charlie… and he wasn't the _sweet _one like Ginny.

He was completely average at everything he ever did.

And average is pretty much useless.

It wasn't just at home that he often felt useless, though. He felt useless with his friends as well. It was hard not to feel useless tucked between the hero of the Wizarding world and maybe the smartest girl to ever grace the hallways of the school. Even as an adult, he sometimes still had trouble deducing what he actually _did _that was supposed to have contributed to defeating Voldemort and so-called "saving the world." He couldn't remember much of anything that he ever did that was of much significance. He was just the useless sidekick.

Perhaps one of the most useless moments of his life was the matter of minutes he spent locked in a basement at Malfoy Manor while Hermione was upstairs getting tortured. At that point in his life, he'd never felt more useless- more _pointless. _It was something he could still recall easily, though he actively tried to repress it. But he remembered coming to the realization in that basement that if he couldn't do something to save her, he might as well kill himself because there was no point to his life. But as useless as he felt not being able to _do _anything, he was pretty positive that it was _that _particular moment that he realized he loved her. Not just that he fancied her… but that he was in _love _with her. And at _that _moment, he first thought that maybe his life really _did _have a point.

Still, though, he continued to be useless throughout his life.

He was useless at the births of every one of his children, and it didn't get any easier with time. They grew out of the birth stage into babies… And he was useless at changing nappies and properly heating baby bottles. The babies grew into children… And he was useless at helping them with their lessons and making sure they ate the proper amount of fruits and vegetables. And then the children grew into teenagers… And he was _certainly _useless at that. It wasn't until Rose threw her first teenage angst fit and shouted at both of her parents how she hated them and wished she'd never been born that he realized there wasn't even _hope _for him to be anything _but_ useless throughout the teenage years.

And now with one child expecting a baby and another child battling what was very obviously borderline outright depression over the loss of her boyfriend… he realized the adult years weren't going to be any easier. In fact, he had absolutely no idea what to do for either of them, so he just did his best and hoped that just being there for them was enough.

He had a feeling, though, that they probably found it pretty fucking useless.

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Rose didn't know who any of the girls in the magazines were, but she didn't care to find out, either.

There was no point to it, was there? Knowing the names of the skanks in those photos would do nothing except give her somewhere else to focus her hate. And she didn't want to hate anyone else.

She only wanted to hate herself.

She figured that it was easier to keep her anger and hatred focused on one particular target. She wasn't sure if she had the actual mental capacity to hate more than she was already doing. Anymore, and she felt as though she would probably actually explode. In all honesty, she wasn't too sure about her mental capacity at all lately.

In fact, she was fairly certain that she was actually insane.

She'd spent a good portion of her life in therapy- a certain sign of psychological imbalance for sure. It wasn't until she was nearly eighteen years old and leaving Hogwarts that she convinced her parents (and herself) that she was "normal" and that she no longer needed the ridiculously expensive weekly sessions with the psychological healer. She was "okay," she convinced them all, because her life was in a good place and she had good people around her and, finally, she understood and accepted that people loved her.

And that was all thanks to him. To Scorpius. He loved her, and she understood that- and it made it easier to accept other people's love as well.

So she was "okay."

Except clearly she wasn't.

Clearly she was completely fucking mental and should be locked up somewhere and never let out. If her parents were at all concerned for her, they should immediately drag her home, check her into the hospital, lock her in, and force her to stay. Because it was only a matter of time… A matter of time before what, she did not know- but she knew it was only a matter of time.

When she was fifteen, she believed in lust. When she was sixteen, she believed in trust. When she was seventeen, she believed in love. When she was eighteen, she believed in soul mates. And at nineteen, she believed… She believed in what? In lies? In hatred? In self-loathing? In failure?

Her whole life could be summed up in one word- Failure.

She failed at being a daughter. She failed at being a sister. She failed at being a girlfriend. And she was about one exam away from failing at being a healer.

It was all her fault- every bit of it. She knew deep down that she deserved whatever pain was currently inflicting itself on her, but it didn't make it easier. It didn't make coming to terms with the fact that she was completely psychologically unstable and just plain fucking crazy any easier.

So she didn't deal with it. She ignored it. She pretended as if it weren't true.

And instead, she chose to hate.

But she never hated any of the girls in the magazines.

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Scorpius wasn't sure when his entire life suddenly switched to a public exhibition.

He wasn't sure when things changed to the point of not being able to walk down the sidewalk without having a camera flash in his face. It was as if everything he did was now public property and splashed throughout newspapers and magazines as if he were some sort of interesting celebrity or something. He honestly didn't consider himself any type of celebrity, so he wasn't sure when other people started seeing him as such.

It was very easy to get women as a pseudo-celebrity. He found this out very quickly. It seemed almost as if he couldn't get _away _from the women. They constantly seemed to seek him out and chat him up and flash their arses and their tits in his face as the flipped their hair and giggled a bit too loudly for his general liking. He was realizing quickly that most women were extremely annoying and vapid- or at the least the ones he generally found himself in contact with.

But they were still nice to look at.

But that was pretty much all he did.

As eager as most of them were to sleep with him, he ignored that about all of them. He chose to look past the fact that they were practically yanking their knickers off in public whenever he was around. He chose not to focus on the fact that at least two women a night tried to give him blow jobs. And he chose to pretend as if it wasn't practically _killing _him to turn all of them down.

He was a man, and according to a Muggle scientific study he happened to read in an abandoned magazine one day, he was at his sexual peak. At nineteen years old, he allegedly had the largest sexual drive that he would ever know. And he believed it as well, seeing as how it was actually _painful _to say no so many times. And truthfully, he didn't even know why he did it. What was the point? What was he waiting on?

On Rose?

Rose was over. He didn't know it was possible to love someone and hate them so much at the same time. He didn't know how she could do that to him after all those years- how she could say _no… _He didn't know why she didn't feel the same way he did, but he knew that if she did, she would never have been able to say no. She was the smartest person he knew, so it was highly unlikely that she was stupid enough to think she could turn down a proposal and keep a semblance of normalcy to their relationship. No, she had _wanted _to end it- he had just given her an excuse.

But still, he couldn't bring himself to be with anyone else.

Maybe he was crazy. Or maybe she'd put him under some sort of love spell at some point without him knowing- a spell that would forever keep him celibate if he weren't with her. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past her, she could be very sneaky and vindictive when she wanted to be. Not to mention, of course, that she was more than capable of finding and performing (or even inventing) such a spell. She was talented like that.

So that must have been it.

He refused to believe anything else because believing otherwise would mean admitting that he wasn't over her and that he didn't want anyone but her. And he wasn't going to do that. As far as he was concerned, she'd committed the worst sin she could ever commit, and he was the one who was having to pay for it.

So he threw himself into his game instead. He spent his evenings at bars getting pissed and his days on the Quidditch pitch working his arse off to prove that he was worth all the hype. He was being looked at for England, and he was going to make damn sure that they noticed him. So that's what he did. He worked at his game until he couldn't work anymore.

And at night, when he went back to his cottage with too much alcohol in his system and with various women's names in his pockets, he fell into bed alone. And slept until the next day when it was time to get up and do it all over again.

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Al knew many things about his family.

He knew that his grandfather would give his left arm to be a Muggle for just one day and see how they really lived and what it felt like to rely solely on electricity and cars and mobiles and that sort of thing. He knew that his sister did more drugs than he and his brother ever did put together and that she was so good at hiding the habit that their parents had absolutely no idea. He knew that his brother was in love with a girl who would never properly love him back and had rightly predicted that he would end up worse off than before when she inevitably broke his heart again. He knew that his cousin Dominique had a fiancé named Jack but that she was secretly seeing a coworker called John as well. He knew that Teddy thought his own children hated him and that he resented Victoire more than he would say for not defending him to their daughters. He knew that his own mother secretly resented all of them sometimes because she missed out on her own Quidditch career and never got to see how successful she could really be. He knew that Landon broke an expensive vase in the kitchen of the Burrow and blamed it on Dora instead so that he wouldn't get in trouble.

And he knew that Rose was insane.

Not the funny kind of amusing insane… but the real _actual _insane.

Sometimes he worried about her. There were times when he read her letters and wondered how close she was to doing something really drastic. She wrote of nothing but despair and hatred and sadness. And sometimes he really did worry about her.

He felt a bit guilty, truthfully. He hadn't exactly been a good friend to her since they'd left Hogwarts. But life had happened. The Auror Academy had happened… Ireland had happened… And they'd drifted apart. It was normal, he thought, but it still didn't quell the guilty feeling. He asked Elisabeth if she felt the same, and she said she did. She didn't think it was all their fault, though, because, she pointed out, Rose had had little time for anyone _but _Scorpius for the last several years.

So it was no wonder, really, that when he was gone, she fell immediately into depression.

He thought maybe he should tell someone- her parents perhaps, or even _his _parents… But he never did. He didn't know why. He thought that maybe they would be able to help her. But he also thought that maybe they would think he was overreacting and do nothing- meanwhile, leaving Rose furious with him for a lifetime.

So he said nothing.

And he went about his life as normally as possible, feeling sorry for his brother who was secretly heartbroken, his cousin who was dealing with a teenage pregnancy public scandal in front of the whole world and all its newspapers, and for his other cousin who seemed quite literally to be dead inside as she had her own heart broken and watched those same newspapers, not for stories of her unborn niece or nephew, but for pictures of her ex-boyfriend and a bevy of new sluts hanging off his neck and on his arm.

But what good was sympathy really?

It was pointless, wasn't it? But what else did he have to offer? He didn't know. He had nothing. So he gave them secret sympathy and felt sorry for them.

And continued to live his own secret.

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When Ginny was six years old, she promised herself that one day she would grow up and have a beautiful daughter who would be much lovelier than any of the dolls she kept lined up carefully on her bed.

That daughter would be more fun to dress up than the dolls, more fun to play with than the dolls, and she would be a hell of a lot smarter than the dolls (she would be able to speak, for one). She didn't ever question this, and she knew from that point on that one day she'd have her own little girl who she could do all kinds of fun, girly things with and who she would protect from the inevitable slew of older brothers the little girl was bound to have- after all, as the youngest of seven and the only girl, it was hard for her to contemplate any other type of family layout.

And when she was twenty-seven years old, she had that little girl.

Lily was a gorgeous child. People commented from the day she was born on how pretty she was and how lucky they were to have such a beautiful baby. By the time she was three years old, she already had waist-length silky red hair that Ginny spent hours playing with and putting into bunches with ribbons. She dressed her up in frilly dresses and cute shoes and always did her best to defend her against the boys who would often gang up on her and boss her around.

But then Lily grew up.

Lily grew up, and she became even _more _beautiful than she was as a child. She turned into this gorgeous, _stunning _young woman, and she knew it all too well. Perhaps that was the problem. Ginny herself was rather pretty, and she knew it, too. As a teenager, she'd had more than a few boyfriends and even more boys who chased her to no avail. She knew from firsthand experience that being a beautiful teenage girl could lead to many things- not all of which were good. In a world where beauty equaled power, a gorgeous, popular teenage girl could essentially become queen.

And Lily did.

Ginny knew this. She could tell from the way Ginny talked and acted sometimes that she was used to having people worship her, and she often suspected that her daughter was leading some sort of secret double life at school. She didn't like to think about the possibility that Lily could be That Girl- that horribly mean one who used people and threw them away when she was finished with them. The one who used her looks to get what she wanted, who used her body to manipulate boys into doing things for her, and who used her popularity to threaten girls into being her own personal slaves.

But she was coming to terms with the fact that it was probably true.

Hermione spent years worrying about Rose and wondering where she'd gone wrong and how it was possible that she'd managed to fuck up parenting so badly that her child had gone completely out of control… And Ginny had spent those years living blissfully in denial and thinking that her own daughter, while a bit spoilt, was still a good girl who didn't have _too _much of a mouth on her and never really got into trouble. Looking back, she probably only stayed in denial that long because if she had allowed herself to realize it sooner, she probably would have killed straight over- it would have been impossible dealing with both James _and _Lily.

But now she was beginning to see, and she didn't know what to do about it. Lily was an adult now. In a few months, she would have graduated and been on her own. It was too late to do anything, wasn't it? And how was she supposed to do anything when she didn't even know the full extent of it? No one would tell. That was the thing about those kids- there were very few instances throughout their lives when they ever told on each other about anything _important. _They tattled incessantly as children, of course, but there was some sort of code between them that stood up through most of everything important. And Lily certainly wasn't going to give _herself _away…

So Ginny decided to stay in blissful denial just a bit longer.

What else could she do?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The truth came out about two weeks after the news broke.

Except, Lily knew, it w_asn't _the truth. It was a lie. It was a lie that _she _had created. It was a lie that she was responsible for, and it was a lie that she alone knew existed.

She saw the blowup happen- several people did. It happened in the middle of the Common Room after all. Hugo opened a letter from his parents that he'd kept sealed all day and had eventually forgot about until he opened up his bag and saw it tucked in between two of his schoolbooks. Lily was across the room with Lydia and the twins discussing the latest gossip about Michelle Jenkins and Jake Crossfield. She glanced up as he was reading, though, and she could tell that something was wrong. In the pit of her stomach, she was fairly certain she knew what it was.

And she was right.

Hugo _exploded. _He literally exploded and immediately started screaming and shouting at Amanda and accusing her of trying to ruin his life and demanding to know how or _why _she would do something so awful. Everyone stopped what they were doing, and the people who weren't already in the Common Room started drifting down from their dormitories to find out what was happening. Amanda stood rooted in her spot and said nothing. She just looked at him as he raged on and on about how he couldn't believe she would do such a thing, and she stayed quiet as he called her several choice names that made a few people even gasp.

And then she started crying.

She didn't start bawling or anything, and she didn't fall to her knees in sobs. Silent tears just started drifting down from her eyes, and she stood there and still said nothing. And finally Hugo stopped shouting and just turned around and ran up the stairs to his dormitory. Everyone looked at Amanda, but no one made any move to comfort her or to say anything at all to her actually. And then she turned around and left through the Portrait Hole.

She didn't come to bed that night.

Lily felt bad. She felt bad for telling Hugo's secret, and she even felt sort of bad for blaming it on someone else. But what could she do? There was absolutely no way whatsoever that she could clear Amanda's name without implicating herself.

She wasn't used to feeling regret anyway- she did things because she _wanted _to do them. If you wanted something, how could you regret it? That was always her motto in life. It worked well, too. It was much easier to have fun and get things that you wanted if there was no threat of conscience involved. Life was more enjoyable that way, or so she assumed. It seemed to work well with James, and she mimicked him to the best of her ability. After all, James lived a life she would kill to live- fame and money and glamour and glitz. It was what she strived for in life. And James didn't do regret- he didn't do conscience, either.

So Lily decided not to do them, either.

And so she said nothing.

Just like Amanda.

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James didn't know why he bothered.

Girls were sluts. They were lying and manipulative and conniving _bitches. _They used people and didn't care when they hurt them. They were all like that, too- good for a quick shag and then useless for pretty much anything beyond that.

He should have known better.

He should have known better than to trust her. She'd already proven herself to be a potential causer of pain, so he didn't know why he insisted on being so fucking masochistic and going back for more. She fucked him up well enough the first go around, so he was fairly certain straight from the start that she could r_eally _fuck him up the second go.

And she did.

Fucking lying _bitch._

He supposed he should be happy, shouldn't he? She was single. She was available. She was absolutely up for the taking… And that was what he wanted, right? Sure. But he wanted her to _leave _the bastard. He wanted her to leave her fiancé and choose _him. _He wanted her to _choose. _

But she couldn't even do that.

Of course, she couldn't. Because she was a _liar. _She lied to him the same way every other fucking person in his life lied to him. The way his parents lied to him about pretty much everything, the way his so-called "friends" lied to him when they liked him only for his money, the way women lied to him every day when they claimed to not care about his name, the way _everyone _lied.

But she wasn't supposed to lie.

She was supposed to be the one who loved him for who he was and not for who his father was. She was the one who was supposed to be there when he wanted to _connect _with someone- not when he just wanted someone to fuck. She was the one who was supposed to be his fucking best friend and his lover all rolled into one. He wanted to marry her, he wanted to have a million kids with her (or maybe two), and he wanted to spend his whole life with her and grow old with her and then _die _with her.

But she fucked it up.

She had to be a fucking goddamned liar, and he couldn't stand that. He already had enough liars in his life, he didn't need any more.

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Kate was pretty sure she should have known better.

In fact, she _did _know better. That's why she'd lied in the first place. She knew better than to trust James Potter. He was a liar and a cheat and everything she hated in people. And that's why she'd never quite been able to understand why she was so hung up on him in the first place. Sure, he fucked her better than anyone else ever had in her life, and sure, there was a certain thrill to being with him. But beyond that? Nothing. There was nothing special about him.

He was just like every other bastard in the universe. Except maybe even worse.

He was worse because he was so fucking _good _at being a bastard. He was the type of bastard who you could almost forget was a bastard if you tried hard enough. He was certainly charming. And cute. And funny. And he could make her forget that he was an arsehole when he brushed hair out of her face and softly kissed the side of her temple or when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to his chest in the middle of the night, smothering his face in the side of her neck and whispering softly to her when he incorrectly assumed she was asleep.

But no matter how sweet he could be, he was still the worst kind of bastard.

And she should have known better.

Truthfully, she knew that it was she who had lied. It was she who had technically started it. If she'd told the truth from the beginning, none of this would have ever happened. Of course, she wasn't sure he would have given her two glances if he didn't think she was unavailable. James was the type of guy who enjoyed a challenge, so sometimes she wondered if the reason he was so adamant about getting her back was because he didn't think he could have her. She didn't know if this was true, of course, but the way he immediately blew up and told her to go fuck herself the second she told him that they could be together didn't really do much to help her suspicions…

That was the thing. She was okay with the fact that he was pissed off at her. He had a right to be pissed. After all, she lied to him for several months and deliberately deceived him when he seemed to be making an honest effort to make things right with her. No, the problem fell in the way he spoke to her. The problem was that he spoke to her like she was some sort of dog and treated her like shit. He had no concept of how to treat women in any environment besides the bedroom.

He was a pig.

And that was what bothered her the most.

Real men didn't call women bitches or tell them to go fuck themselves or anything like that. Real men knew how to respect women and not treat them like dogs. But James didn't know how to do any of that because he was nothing more than a chauvinistic pig. And she _knew_ that. She'd known it since she was fifteen years old.

So yeah, she should have known better.

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Hermione had known Amanda Longbottom since the day she was born.

She'd gone to the hospital with her own heavily pregnant belly when Amanda was just a few hours old and bundled up in a pink blanket with a head full of white blonde curls and unbelievably chubby cheeks. She'd seen her grow up and watched her play with her own children. She'd hugged her goodbye every single September 1st for the last seven years and had loved having her over for dinner during the summer.

Hugo and Amanda were best friends, and she'd suspected that maybe there was something else there beneath the surface. She didn't expect either of them to act on it, though, and she wasn't even sure that either of them would notice. Hugo, like his father, was a bit thick when it came to things like that, and she could tell that Amanda was far too self-conscience and reserved to ever bring it up or do anything about it. Some people might say that it was inevitable that they would eventually end up having those sorts of feelings for each other because you could only spend so much time with someone of the opposite sex and _not _develop those feelings.

But Hermione knew differently.

She knew it from both sides. She and Harry _never _had that. From the first moment that she met Harry Potter, she knew that he was her friend and that he would be her _best _friend forever, but that was _all _he would be. She never felt that for him, and he never felt that for her. It was simple really, despite all the rumors they faced as teenagers- they were _friends. _Hugo and Amanda were friends, but maybe they were something a bit more. They were _not _like Ron and herself, though. She and Ron had been prone to an explosive relationship since the very first day they met. If they were speaking to each other at all, it was safe to assume they were arguing- most of the time, loudly and publicly. But she had always _known. _Or at least she had known for a long time. She wasn't sure if Hugo and Amanda had that or not, but she still had her suspicions.

But regardless, even if they weren't secretly fancying each other, they were still best friend.

Which is why she couldn't _believe _the news that dropped into her lap one Wednesday afternoon.

Ron was furious, of course, and she'd expected no different. She herself was angry, but she was more stunned than flat out vengeful. Ron immediately went to The Leaky Cauldron and demanded that Hannah call Neville and bring him there as well. And then there was a huge fight, and she stood by and said nothing as she watched Ron and Neville get into a shouting match and both accuse each other of lying. And later that night, she herself wrote the letter to Hugo, deciding that he had a right to know the truth. He was, after all, no longer a child, and perhaps it was time to stop shielding him from the harsh realities of the world.

The realities that included friends who weren't really friends at all.

She was sure it broke his heart, but she was glad, in a way, that she was able to let him know the truth before he invested something more than friendship in the girl who betrayed him to the entire world.

She had a feeling that things would be much worse if they were already _more _than friends.

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One of Hugo's earliest memories was of Rose's sixth birthday.

He was four and, at that age, too young to fully comprehend why Rose was getting a party and he was not. Still, he was excited for the crowd of people who were filling his house and his backyard, all of them laughing and generally in a great mood. There were tons of kids there, and as a four year old, he hadn't fully grasped yet which of them were actually related to him and which were not. Mostly, he knew that Rose was his sister and that was it. He didn't understand the concept of cousins at that point, so all the rest of them were _friends. _

And Lily was his _best _friend.

He often wondered why Lily couldn't be his sister- why he was stuck with _Rose _who was mean and hateful and bossed him around and had even been known to slap him and push him down on occasion. Lily never did those things. Lily hugged him and played with him and never called him a brat or tattled on him or did anything like that. So Hugo would ask sometimes, his mum or Aunt Ginny or even Grandmum, if he could trade Rose for Lily. All he ever got in response was some laughs and a hair ruffle.

On the afternoon of Rose's birthday, though, Lily wasn't around. He knew she was there because he'd seen her come in with her parents and James and Al. Al had immediately run off to find Rose, and James had been rolling his eyes and muttering something about _baby parties _while his mum gave him one of those looks any _normal _kid would be scared of- but, of course, James wasn't normal, and Hugo was fairly certain he'd never been afraid of his parents (or anything else for that matter) a day in his life. Lily had run up and hugged him but then said she had to pee and disappeared off to the bathroom. And he hadn't seen her since.

He spent some time at the party with the other guests and played a couple of games with Lorcan and Lysander who he always thought were pretty awesome. He couldn't tell them apart completely, but it didn't matter. They were a bit bigger than him and always seemed to have the most amazing stories to tell, so Hugo always felt cool when he hung out with them. Eventually, though, he went back to wondering about Lily, so he asked if they'd seen her. One of the twins told him that he was pretty sure he saw her heading upstairs, so Hugo hurried up the stairs to the second floor to see if he could find her.

She was in Rose's room, which, of course, was alone enough to get her murdered. Hugo could imagine if Rose happened upstairs and found her- she'd get a slap or two for sure, and then Rose would run downstairs and tell on her for touching her things without permission. Luckily, though, Rose seemed quite distracted by all the guests and gifts in the backyard, so maybe Lily was safe for the moment. Still, though, he knew she wasn't supposed to be there, and he was just about to warn her when he noticed that she wasn't alone. Amanda was there, too, and they were laughing and playing dress up with some of Rose's clothes that were too big on them and looked pretty ridiculous in Hugo's opinion. They didn't seem to notice him at all as he stood in the doorway and watched them.

And he watched as Lily squealed in delight at Amanda who was spinning around in one of the new summer dresses Hugo knew for a fact Rose had yet to even wear. She looked like a princess, Lily declared happily- _Princess Amanda. _And Lily was a princess, too, they both decided- _Princess Lily. _But it was the next declaration that really upset Hugo, and it was Lily who made it.

"We're like _sisters!" _Amanda laughed and nodded excitedly as Lily wrapped her arms around her and hugged her happily. "And you're my best friend forever!"

And Hugo decided right then to hate Amanda. For being Lily's best friend forever and for being her _sister. _

And as he read his mother's letter for the millionth time and read the truth about who had betrayed him and told his secret to the newspaper, he decided that maybe he should have kept the vow he made when he was four years old.

If he'd kept on hating her, none of this would have ever happened.

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Harry was used to unexpected things happening.

When he was born, he was sure his infant brain never expected his parents to die and to leave him as an orphan. He was sure he didn't expect to end up at the hands of an aunt and uncle who despised him and hated him. He didn't remember not expecting these things, of course, but he was sure of them nonetheless.

As a child, he didn't expect to be made fun of for wearing awful clothing or for being the smallest kid in primary. He didn't expect to get beaten up every day and have no one care. It wasn't long, though, before he accepted this fate as reality and learned to deal with it.

He certainly never expected to receive a letter on his eleventh birthday inviting him to a magical world that he didn't even know existed. Even after he received the invitation, he certainly didn't expect his aunt and uncle to ever give in and actually let him go (though he supposed he had a half-giant to thank for part of that). He didn't expect to meet friends at Hogwarts, much less best friends who would later become his family. He didn't expect the majority of things that happened at Hogwarts actually- from a three-headed dog to a sadistic evil wizard whose main goal in existence was to kill him. He didn't expect to see his eighteenth birthday.

But he did.

He never expected to fall in love with his best friend's sister, and when he did, he certainly didn't expect her to love him back. He didn't expect the baby that changed both their lives forever and threw an unexpected wrench into their plans. He didn't know it was possible to love another human being as much as he loved that little baby, and he didn't expect any of the feelings and emotions that came along with him.

He didn't expect to do so well at his job, never expected to earn the top-ranking position. He didn't expect it to come as easily as it did, but he also didn't expect the stress that came along with it. He didn't expect for it to nearly destroy his marriage on more than one occasion, and if he _had _expected it, he wasn't sure he would have made the same decisions.

He never expected his children to do _half _the things they did. He didn't expect them to all be so completely different from him. He didn't expect the trouble they got into, the trouble they caused, or the trouble they escalated. He also didn't expect to feel so protective and yet so completely separated from them. He still didn't know what to expect from them, and they continued to surprise him on a nearly daily basis.

Mostly, though, he never expected to go through as much loss as he did.

He didn't expect to watch people die- people he loved and admired and respected. He didn't expect to find out he had a godfather and lose him less than two years later. He didn't expect to lose every single connection to his parents that he had, every single person who knew them and was their friend. He didn't expect to watch a classmate die right in front of his face because he happened to be in the wrong place at the same time. He didn't expect to lose his first and only pet, didn't expect to lose the people who were supposed to teach him and protect him. He didn't expect to witness the death of the most powerful wizard he'd ever known, to watch him die. He didn't expect to watch a man die who he hated and then find out heartbreaking truth about him the next minute. He didn't expect to see friends' and classmates' bodies pile up around him.

No one ever expects those things.

Out of all the things he never expected, though, there was one thing he knew would forever stand out in his mind above all the rest. He knew the second it happened that it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He never, in all his years, ever expected to go on a routine call with his best friend and return home later that evening to tell his other best friend that her husband wasn't coming back.

That he was dead.

That was something he _never _expected.

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A/N: Okay. So before everyone crucifies me… I'm sorry!! You'll get the rest of the story next, I promise! In the meantime… please review (even if it's to tell me how much you hate me….)


	29. March 1st

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 29

**MARCH 1****st**

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Harry had witnessed death before.

As a child, as a teenager, and eventually as an Auror, death had been an everyday reality. During his years as an Auror, he had seen several coworkers die. Each one had been difficult, but he was able to separate his professional life from his personal life enough so that he was able to accept the deaths as an inevitability and move forward. He did worry, of course, when his own children started growing up and showing interest in his profession that he might eventually find himself in a position where the separation was not nearly as simple. When Teddy made the decision to apply to the Auror Academy, he worried for his safety, worried if he was too young and inexperienced. He accepted the decision, though, and allowed it to happen. Several years later when Al, too, made the claim that he wanted to join the Aurors, he worried again. But he knew that a point came in the kids' lives when there was no other choice but to let them grow up and make their own decisions.

And so that's where he focused his attention for the last several years- on protecting his kids.

And Ron was there, of course, to help him watch out for the kids and to make sure that they were protected and didn't get themselves into trouble. Harry never considered the possibility that Ron would ever be the one in trouble. Ron, after all, had been beside him through nearly every major battle and event that had ever taken place in his life. He wasn't someone who needed worrying about because he was well able to take care of himself.

And so that's why he couldn't really believe it.

When he stood outside of the detached suburban London home he'd visited for the past two decades and stood staring wordlessly at the door, he realized that he had no idea what to say. Or what to do. Nothing made sense, and he felt as if he were in a dream world- as if he had was living someone else's life at the moment or maybe as if he were caught in the middle of a nightmare. But he couldn't wake up. No matter how hard he fought to force himself awake, it didn't happen.

He was still standing in the exact same spot reliving the exact same moment over and over.

Finally, after what may have been a minute or may have been an hour, he forced himself to knock on the front door. He wasn't used to knocking, and he reflected on how oddly formal it felt. When he wanted something, he would just Apparate into their house or take the Floo straight over. Knocking made it seem far too routine and professional.

And it was certainly anything but routine.

Hermione answered the door and looked at him weirdly as she held it open for him to enter. She had a quill in one hand and headed back towards the dining room without so much as a hello.

"What's going on?" she asked, totally distracted as she made her way back into the dining room where a makeshift office had been set up on the table. She had work sprawled everywhere, and he wondered what was so important that she'd brought it home and was working on it this late.

"Where's Landon?" he asked, glancing at the clock and already knowing the answer. He was surprised to find his voice.

Hermione half-rolled her eyes. "In bed," she said flatly. "Where he's been for hours…"

Harry said nothing as he joined her at one of the empty dining chairs. She went straight back to pooling over whatever work she'd brought home, and he watched her silently for awhile until she finally got annoyed and looked up at him.

"Not to be rude," she said in a voice that clearly let him know she didn't give two shits if she was rude, "but did you need something? Where's Ron anyway? He told me he'd be back in time to put Landon to bed, but obviously he's found something more important to do."

The words felt like a slap in the face, and Harry stared at the table in front of him, unable at that moment to make eye contact with her. He felt a gigantic lump in his throat, and he thought for a second that he might choke to death on it. Unfortunately, he was still alive a minute later when she looked at him with a face that was now less annoyed and more worried.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly.

"Something happened…" His voice came out strained and soft.

She stared at him for a long, hard moment. And then she repeated her earlier question. "Where's Ron?"

And then he had no choice but to tell her. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was useless. "He…" He realized suddenly that he should have planned this before he tried to say it out loud. He didn't even know where to go with it. He drew in an unsteady breath and forced the words out. "He's dead."

He hadn't planned the moment out, but if he had, he was fairly certain he would have imagined Hermione falling into immediate hysterics or maybe going into a rage and destroying the room. He didn't think he would have pictured her sitting calmly and wordlessly at her dining room table staring straight at him without so much as flinching.

But that's what she did.

He didn't know what to say after that, so they just stared at each other in total silence for what seemed like twelve hours. Finally, just as Harry felt he could take no more, she spoke. Just three words, spoken in a completely even tone. "Are you sure?"

Of course, he was sure.

When he'd heard the shouting coming from the other end of the building, he'd rushed down the corridor as quickly as he could trying to find the source of it. He recognized the voices, but he couldn't track down the location. And when he finally did, he immediately wished he hadn't.

He never wanted to see his best friend lying face up on the floor with his eyes wide and unseeing at the air above him. But that's what he saw. And he saw his youngest son standing against the wall with his wand clutched tightly in his hand and a look of pure shock and terror etched across his face.

Harry didn't spare Al a second glance as he rushed straight over to Ron and fell down right beside him, shaking him violently and screaming at him to wake up. Looking back, he knew it was pointless. He knew what death looked like and knew it couldn't be reversed… but he had to _try. _

"_Stop it!" _he shouted desperately. _"Wake up!"_

But he didn't wake up.

He didn't wake up no matter how loud he shouted and no matter how hard he shook him. His eyes remained blank and unseeing, and his chest remained still and quiet. He was dead.

"_No! No, no, no, NO!"_

And then he felt someone pulling him back by the shoulders. He tried to resist, but the other person was stronger, and eventually he was pulled backwards away from the body and found himself spinning around to face the person who pulled him away.

"_What happened?" _he demanded, grasping Al by the shoulders and looking at him urgently. _"Who did it?!"_

"_Dad…"_

"_I'm going to fucking kill them!" _he raged on. _"Tell me who it was!"_

But he didn't tell Hermione any of this. He just nodded in response to her question. Yes. He was sure.

And she just continued to stare at him, her eyes eerily similar to Ron's as he stared aimlessly towards the ceiling. Another eternity of silence passed, and then finally she spoke again.

"I have to go get the kids."

She stood up as if she were going to head out right then and make trips to both Ireland and Scotland to retrieve her children. Harry stood up with her and shook his head.

"Al went to get Rose." He swallowed again. "I'll go to the school." He hadn't planned it, but he realized he'd have to go to Hogwarts to get Hugo. And Lily. To tell the rest of them. And to tell Neville. There was so much to do, it hit him all at once.

Hermione didn't argue. She just turned away from him and headed toward the kitchen. He didn't follow her right away. He stood stunned in place, wondering how any of this was possible. None of it seemed real. He needed to tell Ginny, but he wasn't sure he was ready to break the news again. He'd got the worst over, but telling everyone else wasn't going to be easy by any means.

When the rest of the force had arrived to survey the scene, immediate hysterics broke out. Everyone was shocked and enraged, and a million different people shouted a million different things that needed to be done. A statement needed to be released, a press conference held, someone needed to alert the Minister.

Harry had slammed the person who made the last suggestion against the wall and snapped immediately out of temporary stupor.

"_No one says a word to _anyone _until I say so. Do you understand?" _he demanded seriously as he looked at all of them. _"Anyone who says _anything _won't have a fucking job tomorrow!"_

All he could see in his head at that point was someone releasing a statement or telling the Ministry before he'd had a chance to tell Hermione. He didn't want to tell her, couldn't think of anything worse, but he knew he had to be the one. She couldn't hear it from anyone else.

He owed her that.

A loud crash from the kitchen drew him out of his momentary daze, and he hurried toward it. Hermione was standing beside her stove, and a copper tea kettle was lying where it fell at her feet. He didn't know if she had dropped it or throw it, but she looked very nearly in shock as a horrible expression twisted across her face. And Harry didn't know what at all to do.

So he just hugged her.

He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her to him. She didn't resist, but she didn't respond, either. Her own arms hung limply at her sides, and she still said nothing, didn't even make a sound. And they just stood there like that until the sound of footsteps behind them distracted them.

"What was that crash?"

Landon was standing in the doorway, looking on at them sleepily. His hair was a mess of curls, and his nightclothes were already well-wrinkled. He'd obviously heard the kettle crash to the floor and woken up. Hermione pulled away and turned her back on them both. He thought perhaps she was crying, but then she looked over her shoulder at Landon and bit down on her thumbnail silently, as though contemplating what to say or do.

Apparently she chose nothing for both options.

So finally, Harry decided to take control of the situation and at least say something to the poor kid. "Hey, Mum's gonna go lie down, alright?" he said as normally as he could manage. He placed one hand on Landon's shoulder and looked pointedly over his head at Hermione. "You and me can hang out, yeah, mate?"

Landon looked up at him suspiciously. That kid was just too smart to pull anything over on. He looked back over at Hermione and ignored Harry altogether.

"Where's Dad?"

Hermione said nothing, just continued to stare at him and bite down on her thumbnail silently. Harry could feel all of the tension in the room mounting, and he felt a bit powerless to stop it. He still tried, though.

"Look, Mum's gonna go to bed, okay?"

"I can take care of my son, Harry," Hermione snapped out of nowhere, and she looked at him icily.

He just looked at her for a moment, and then barely shook his head. "Just let me help, Hermione," he urged quietly, but she ignored him.

She seemed to be out of her momentary lapse in reality and back to the present. She marched straight over to Landon and picked him up. Having just celebrated his seventh birthday, he was at that stage he was nearly too big to be picked up and carried, but Landon was certainly on the small side of seven, so it wasn't _too _odd.

Hermione looked over his shoulder at Harry. "I'm putting him back to bed," she said flatly in a voice that made it seem as if it were totally normal for her to be doing such things five minutes after learning of her husband's death. Harry didn't say anything. He just watched as she carried him out of the kitchen and toward the corridor stairs.

He was still in shock himself.

None of it seemed real, and he wondered how long he'd have to stand there before it would really sink in. He didn't even know what to do. His first instinct was to go straight home, but going home would mean breaking the news to Ginny. And he hadn't quite figured out how to do that yet. On top of that, he wasn't completely sure it would be responsible of him to leave Hermione alone right now, even though she'd insisted that she was fine and that she was more than capable of taking care of herself and Landon. He noticed the mobile sitting on the kitchen counter, and he made a split decision to grab it and make a call. There weren't many numbers loaded into it, so it was easy to find the one for which he was looking.

The phone rang just twice before a semi-familiar voice picked up on the other end. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Granger…" Harry swallowed, trying to remember if he'd ever once spoken with Hermione's mum via the telephone. "Hi, it's Harry…"

"Oh, hi!" she said brightly. "What's going on?"

_What's going on…_ It was a simple enough question, wasn't it? He could simply answer the question and say that nothing was going on. It was the truth, wasn't it? At the moment, there was nothing more than a mother tucking her child into bed. At the moment, _nothing _was happening.

But that wasn't the appropriate answer.

"I'm sorry to call so late," he said forcing his voice to stay as even as possible. It was taking everything he had to keep it from wavering out of control. "But do you think you could come over? Something's happened."

"Come over where?" she asked immediately, and her voice took on a slightly sharper edge. "To Hermione's?"

He nodded before realizing that she would not be able to see such a nod. "Yes," he said still struggling with his voice.

"What's happened?" she demanded, and her voice now sounded completely hard. He could tell that she was on the verge of being terrified. He tried to think whether it would be better to break the news to her now and upset her or wait and let her worry. Both seemed equally as horrible.

"It's Ron," he finally managed, and his voice did break a bit. There was silence from the other end of the line.

Finally, Mrs. Granger cleared her throat. Harry got the feeling that she was trying to be as blasé as possible because, like it or not, she and Hermione _were _cut from the same cloth. They had eerily similar characteristics.

"Is he alright?"

"No."

He didn't know how else to say it, so he just put it out there. He listened to the ringing quiet, and then after yet another eternally long silence, he heard a very quiet, "I'm on my way."

The Grangers' house had been hooked up to the Floo network ever since Hermione was a kid, so it was easy for her mum to arrive in just a few short minutes. It seemed like the longest few minutes in history, though, and Harry could do very little besides lean against the kitchen counter in shock and remember the night's earlier events.

When he stared at the body, all he could think of was how it was impossible. That was a grown man lying in front of him. If he was going to stand over Ron's body, it was supposed to have happened thirty years ago when they were teenagers. When they were kids, he'd allowed himself to imagine it, to consider the possibility that the chances of all three of them making it out alive were slim to none. At least one of them, he figured, wasn't going to reach adulthood. He'd pictured all the scenes- his own body lying dead on the floor… Hermione's… And Ron's… It was one of those things that you could see but that wasn't really possible. Or at least he never wanted it to be possible.

But there he was. Or there his _body _was. Dead on the floor. Right in front of him. And as he stood there staring at it, all he could think of was how much Ron was going to miss. He wouldn't see Rose finally become a Healer… He wouldn't see Hugo's baby… He wouldn't even get to hug Landon goodbye on the morning of his first day of Hogwarts. And who could even predict how much he was going to miss of Hermione? She was already beyond successful, and she only had the potential to do tons more. There was no telling what else she would accomplish in the next twenty or so years.

And he would miss it all.

Mrs. Granger arrived within minutes, and Harry could tell she'd probably already been in bed. He heard her in the living room and went to meet her. She looked at him straight away, and he was positive that she already knew. She was, he assumed, still trying to hold onto the last bit of hope she might have of being wrong. She met his eyes, and he couldn't hide it. She knew immediately, and she raised a hand to her mouth as her eyes filled up with tears.

"Where is she?" she asked in a whisper, and Harry truly felt awful for her as well. She was still getting over the death of her own husband, which had happened only months before. Now she was going to have to deal with this as well.

Feeling the guilt well up inside of him, he averted his eyes and looked down at the carpet. "She took Landon to bed."

"What happened?"

Harry couldn't lift his eyes. The guilt that was already eating away at him seemed even worse as he was forced to answer the question he knew he'd be answering a million times over the next few days. The lump in his throat was still there, and even as he tried to swallow it again, it only seemed to get worse.

Eventually he was able to choke out the reply. "He saved my son…"

When he looked at Al after it happened, he could tell that something was definitely wrong- besides the obvious, of course. He was shaking for one, and while that could have been a natural reaction to just watching his uncle be murdered, Harry knew there was something more. He was beyond his own hysterics point, though, so he had very little patience trying to coax the real story out.

"_What happened?" _he demanded, and Al just looked at him like he was going to be ill all over the place. _"Who fucking _did _this?!"_

"_I don't know," _Al mumbled. "_I… They were… They tried to kill me…"_

Harry looked at the dead body lying on the floor beside his feet. He understood then. He didn't know the specifics, but feeling the wave of faintness that was overtaking him, he didn't think he could handle them. And to his own surprise, it wasn't Al who was sick all over the place, it was him. And he literally had to sit down on the ground and put his head between his knees to make the room stop spinning. By that time, all the other Aurors on the call must have heard the commotion because the room was filled up and everyone was going into full panic mode.

Mrs. Granger didn't ask for these details, though, she just stared at him silently for a very long moment, her eyes still watering with tears. And then she shook her head and hurried off towards the stairs, disappearing to the second floor where Hermione was presumably still tucking Landon into bed.

Harry couldn't deal with it anymore.

He had to get out of there. Mrs. Granger was there; she would take care of Hermione and Landon. He had to go. He didn't know where straight off, but he knew it was only a matter of hours before the story fully broke, and he certainly had to tell Ginny before then. He didn't have any idea what he was going to say to her, either, but he figured that if he'd managed to make it through telling Hermione, he could make it through telling Ginny.

But that didn't make him anymore eager as he grabbed his wand and Apparated home.

Ginny was in bed when he got there, and he felt like he was in some sort of dream world as he made his way back to their bedroom and kicked his shoes off in the corner. She wasn't asleep, but he could tell she was on the verge of it- whenever she was just about to fall asleep, she always fell into this certain breathing mode, and the sound of it filled the room.

"What time is it?" she mumbled sleepily as he pushed the covers back and crawled in beside her without even bothering to change out of his work clothes.

And it was then, as he looked at the back of her head at the hair that was the exact same shade as her brother's, that he finally lost it. He started sobbing almost instantly- horrible, racking sobs that consumed his whole body. He felt himself shaking, and he tried to stop it, but he couldn't. The reality of the situation seemed to smack him in the face. It was all he could do to keep himself from literally screaming.

Ginny didn't react for a second, and then she slowly rolled over to face him.

"What happened?" she asked gently, her eyes searching his face for a reply. She moved one hand to his hair and softly smoothed it down as if he were a child. "What's wrong?"

In all the years he'd known her, he was sure she'd be able to count the number of times he'd cried on one hand. She knew something was wrong, and he didn't even have the strength to try and sugarcoat it for her. Perhaps it was cruel of him, but he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't break it to her gently because he didn't have the _strength _to. He just wanted to get it out.

"Ron's dead."

The words came out choked and broken by the sobs, and he wondered if she could even understand him. He managed to look at her, though, and he could tell by the look on her face that she did. She had a much more immediate reaction than Hermione had, and she started crying straight away. He felt horrible that he couldn't even comfort her, and then he felt even worse when _she _wrapped an arm around _him. _

But there was nothing more he could do at that point besides cry.

He was positive he'd never felt more helpless in his entire life.

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A/N: So. A lot of people hate me, huh? And think I'm just completely evil and a horrible writer and a bunch of other awful stuff!

All I can say to it is that this has been part of the plan from the beginning. Honestly, it was supposed to happen in Lessons Learned, and I chickened out. When that one was over, I told myself that if I was going to do the sequel, I was going to go with the original plan. And I did, and I don't regret it. I can't please everyone, so if you don't suddenly hate me and hate this story, please keep reading. Hopefully you won't regret it because I have a lot planned for this storyline and how it's going to impact every single character. This is a character-driven story, and with all the kids being split up all over the place, it's much more difficult to have their storylines intertwine than it was during Lessons Learned. This was the plan before the story, and I'm not going to apologize or go back and turn it into some ridiculous dream or fake out just because it may not be a popular decision.

I asked for honest feedback, I got it, and I appreciate it. But again, I'm not going to apologize for it, and if people want to stop reading, that's perfectly up to them and completely their prerogative. To those people, I say thank you for reading my story and especially thanks to the people who have left feedback any other time besides to say, "This story's shit and you are a horrible person for killing off a character!" (No one literally said that, but I could tell a lot of people wanted to). But seriously, thank you for reading, I appreciate it. Hopefully you enjoyed the stuff up until now.

To the people who will continue to read this story, I would also like to say thank you. Thank you for reading and for reviewing and for having enough faith in me as a writer based off of what I've already produced to know that sometimes shit has to happen to make other things better. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story. Next up is Al, and you'll get the rest of the story! Thanks!!


	30. Al, March 1st

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 30

**AL**

**March 1****st**

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Ireland isn't quite as I always imagined it would be.

Somehow, I've never made it here before. I've been to plenty of foreign places like Asia and America, but I've never been to Ireland before. It's sort of odd, isn't it? Not that any of that matters at the moment, of course, because I'm certainly not here on holiday or anything like that. I'm here to deliver the worst possible news there is to deliver.

And yes, I'm pretty hysterical.

I'm at that point of hysteria where I can't even focus on the task at hand. It almost seems like none of it's even real. Like maybe it was all just a dream or something. I pinch myself just to make sure, but unfortunately, nothing happens- save the sudden sting in my hand, of course. Figures.

I'm outside of Rose's flat. I've been outside of it for maybe an hour already. Maybe it's only been ten minutes, I don't know. It seems like forever. And it's freezing, of course, but I don't really notice the chill unless I focus on it. It's also pitch black outside, and the corridor of her building has a light that keeps flickering on and off. I might even call it creepy if I were in the habit of calling things creepy… I'm not really.

I just don't know what I'm going to say.

Hell, I don't even know what to _think. _Or maybe I just don't _want _to think of it. Every time I think of it, I just keep seeing the horrible flash of green light. And I keep seeing my uncle. Dead. On the floor. And it was all because of me.

All because I couldn't manage to take care of myself even for a few minutes.

I finally get to go out on an actual worthwhile mission, and what happens? My uncle dies. Right. Because of me.

Maybe I didn't utter the curse, but it's my fault. _I _killed him. And I know it. I know it. Dad knows it. Soon the whole world will know it. But first I have to tell Rose. I owe her that at least, don't I? After all, I just killed her father- I should at least have the decency to break the news to her.

I want to vomit.

My stomach feels as if it's on fire, and I swear it needs to empty its contents all over the place. I'm not really a puker, though, so it's not all that easy. It's not fair that Dad was able to throw up when he found out. I'm sure it made him feel better, just like it would make me feel better. But I can't do it. So I just stand there fighting off the horrible burning feeling that's gone all the way from my stomach to my throat. It doesn't really work.

I feel bad.

Not just about everything that's happened to night, but about everything. I have been a shit friend to Rose lately. Hell, I doubt she even considers me a friend these days… _I _wouldn't consider me a friend if I were her. She's been a fucking _wreck _since the Scorpius thing, and I haven't done anything for her. I haven't even really told her I was sorry or anything. I'm just a bastard. And now the very first time I make time to visit her, I have to tell her that her dad's dead and that he died jumping in front of an _Avada Kedavra_ aimed at me.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

The stupid Muggle killings. There was another one- the mother and little brother of a Third Year Hogwarts student. They were found dead last night, and the Muggle police ruled it natural causes, just like they've ruled all the rest. But, of course, we had to investigate, and I finally got to go along. It's the first time I've done anything even remotely important or interesting…

I just didn't know it was going to end the way it did.

I don't think I've really let myself process it yet. The initial shock is still pretty much lingering, and when it happened, I couldn't do much of anything except sputter about as Dad tried to beat life back into the dead body on the ground. My uncle's dead body. My uncle who wouldn't have even been in the room if it weren't for me…

I suppose I hear the footsteps behind me, but I don't register them until a girl with long wavy blonde hair steps up beside me and looks at me as if I'm half mental.

"Excuse me?" she says in a posh accent that you can tell isn't quite natural. "Can I help you?" She's got her keys out, and I can tell she's about to unlock the door to the flat I'm in front of. She must be Rose's roommate.

"I'm looking for Rose," I mutter quietly, surprised really to even find my voice.

The blonde girl raises her eyebrows and continues to look at me crazy. "Look," she says flatly. "Just because her boyfriend's dumped her and is flashing his junk all over every magazine in Europe doesn't mean she wants to be bothered by anyone else. Especially people who queue up outside her flat like a stalker. It's creepy."

I just stare at her, rolling her words over again in my head until I realize exactly what she's on about. "I'm her cousin," I say, blinking a couple of times to knock myself out of my haze.

Blondie eyes me still, and I can tell she doesn't quite believe me. Still, though, she puts her keys in the lock and pushes open the door. "Wait here," she snaps and then disappears inside the flat. I stand there, still not sure I'm even actually awake, and I can hear voices coming from the other side of the door. "Rose," calls the girl loudly. "Some weird little man's outside for you. Says he's your cousin."

Weird little man?

The door opens again, and Rose stands there staring at me. Her friend is behind her, looking out as well. I'm sure she's hoping that I'm lying and that Rose'll hex me or something. She doesn't, though; she actually smiles.

"Al!"

"Potter?" The roommate perks up at this, apparently putting two and two together. "I'm Lola," she quips quickly, and she holds a hand out in my general direction

I look at it blankly. Rose rolls her eyes and pushes Lola's hand away as she shakes her head pointedly at her and opens up the door wider to let me in.

"What are you doing here?" she asks. "I haven't seen you since Christmas!"

I nod, and I notice all too easily that the room starts tilting a little bit as I step into the entryway of her flat. She leads me back into the sitting room where she sits and then pulls me down to the sofa. I feel like a dead weight as I fall beside her. Her friend hangs around and leans against the arm of a chair, looking on in a very inconspicuous way that quite clearly reads, _"If I can't have the Quidditch player, I'll settle for the little brother." _

I've seen it plenty of times.

"So what're you doing here?" Rose asks, completely oblivious to Lola's blatant attempt at seduction- either completely oblivious to it or completely ignoring it, one.

And there it is.

I've got to tell her. I owe her that at least. I just don't know _how _to tell her. What words even fit together to explain what just happened? There aren't any. I need to throw up.

And then some deity takes pity on me, and I feel all the sick from my stomach rising into my throat. I jump up and barely make it into the adjoining kitchen before I throw up right into the sink. It's gross, of course, and since I'm not generally a person who vomits, a little bit unnerving. But it is also comforting, and I can't pretend that I don't feel better afterwards.

Rose and Lola both follow me, of course, though Lola keeps a good distance back and hangs out in the doorway. She looks both disgusted and a bit intrigued at the same time. I'm fairly certain her momentary Potter lust is over, though, as she raises her eyebrows and looks on warily.

"What's up with you?" Rose asks, passing me a towel and pointedly keeping her distance.

I wipe my mouth with it and steady myself against the counter, realizing all too quickly that I can't do this. There's no way I can tell her what I came here to say. Hell, I can't even let myself _think _it. I don't even realize that my eyes are watering until I see a few drops at the bottom of my glasses.

"Al," Rose says pointedly, and she stares at me questioningly.

"I think you need to come home," I tell her quietly, barely getting through the short sentence before I need to draw in breath.

She just looks at me, and then she raises her eyebrows in a request for clarification.

"Just… you should come home."

"What're you talking about?" she asks, confused. "Did something happen?"

I nod.

When I don't say anything else, she rolls her eyes. "Jesus, Al, who fucking died? Tell me what happened."

What happened.

She wants me to tell her what happened.

Where should I begin? At the beginning, I suppose- the part where I begged my dad to let me go on the investigation run, all because I was trying to impress Elisabeth. Yeah, that's a fantastic place to start, I'm sure. And Dad agreed, eventually, though I could tell he wasn't really into the idea. He should have followed his instincts and forced me to stay home because clearly I am far, far beyond incompetent.

And then the dead Muggles… _natural _causes, per the police, just like all the rest of them. Only, it's _not _natural causes, and the fuckwits who have been murdering them left behind a crucial clue this time. Whoever killed the woman didn't cover up their wand all the way, and so, naturally, it was traced and tracked, and that's how we all ended up in Edinburgh at the run-down piece of shit house the bastards were hiding out in. So maybe I should start there- at that dump that smelled like a mix of whiskey and dog shit. Or maybe in the room I wandered into absent-mindedly after we'd all pretty much given up hope that any of the bastards were still around. The house was empty as far as we could tell- they'd obviously caught wind of our knowledge and taken off.

Except they hadn't.

Because when I wandered into an upstairs room and kicked a crushed cardboard box away, I ended up face to face with a middle-aged man who was graying on top and missing one of his bottom teeth. He grinned at me in a really evil sort of way and looked at the wand in my trembling hand in amusement. He had his own wand clutched in his fist and smirked at my obvious nervousness.

"Let me guess," he rasped out. "This is your first Big Kid game, ain't it? Rookie, I bet, huh?"

I didn't say anything. I just kept my eyes locked on him as I tried to weigh my options.

"You fuckers came all the way out here to play, didn't you?" he taunted. "Well, hell, let's play then!" And he laughed some sort of crazy, maniacal laugh. He pointed his wand at me and winked. "I'll tell you the rules, alright? I go first- age before beauty, of course. I fuck you up, and then you beg for your life, see? And if you do a good job, I might let you go on for awhile! Deal?"

And that's pretty much when I realized that I was going to die.

Who the fuck am I even kidding with this Auror bullshit? I'm not cut out for it! I'm not my dad. I'm far too much of a coward to face down death and not immediately freak out, which is exactly what I did. And, of course, I fucked up any chance I had of getting away by opening my mouth and saying the one thing I should _never _have said.

"My dad's right downstairs," I bit out, trying to sound stubborn but really sounded like a spoiled child. "He'll hear me if I scream."

I don't know why I said it. Looking back, it was probably the _stupidest, _not to mention most _pathetic, _thing I could have said. And it certainly didn't have the effect I dreamt up in my head in the seconds before. Instead, the man just stared at me with a look of dawning realization.

"Well, fuck me," he muttered disbelievingly. "You must be one of them Potter kids, ain't you? Not the famous one, though…" He snorted. "He don't have to follow Daddy's footsteps to try to make something out of himself."

I gripped my wand tighter, trying to make my hand stop shaking. I put on the best steeled look I could muster, but I'm positive he could see right through it. In fact, I know he did. Because he laughed again and reached over to clap me on the shoulder like we were old friends or something.

"Well, fucking hell, kid! Why didn't you say something earlier? This makes the game a _lot _more interesting!"

I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to just Disapparate right there. But a bigger part of me knew that that would be the most cowardly thing I could even possibly think of doing. So I didn't. I just stood there and stared at the man who was going to kill me within a matter of moments. There were just two real options- die a man or live a coward. I didn't think I could handle the second option.

"Alright then," the man chuckled again. "First of order of business…" And he muttered something so quickly I'm still not even sure what he said. But whatever it was sent my wand flying out of my hand and crashing against the wall behind me. It wasn't a normal disarming spell, though, and my hand literally burned from the speed at which the wand was ripped from my grip.

It hit me then that I was really and truly fucked.

"You can start begging now," he jeered. "Or would you rather I skip straight to the fun part?"

"I'd rather you skip straight to hell." I jerked my head around just in time to see my uncle enter the room looking rather bored by the whole thing. The other man stopped looking quite so jovial, though. At least for a second.

"Well, isn't this cute?" he scoffed. "It's like a perfect little family picture- you swooping in just in time to save the kid." Then he laughed. "It's pathetic."

"You want to know what pathetic is?" Ron challenged, staring him straight in the eye. "It's you being too much of a pussy to go over people who can defend themselves and stooping down to torturing Muggles instead! _That's _pathetic." And then he lifted his wand, muttered a quick disarming spell, and caught the other wand easily in his free hand. _"Now _you want to play?"

A look of slight panic covered the other man's face momentarily, but then he put back on his cocky toothless smirk and shook his head. "This is even better. A fucking _Potter _kid… and _you." _He shook his head. "You come after _us _over all this Muggle shit when it's really all that Mudblood's fault… And yet _you, _of all people, want to blame _us…" _

"You watch your fucking mouth." Ron didn't even glance down as he tossed the extra wand to the floor before stepping forward and shoving the other guy back against the wall. He jammed his wand into his throat and trapped him tightly. "You wouldn't have to say too much for me to end your sorry fucking life."

"Go ahead."

"Don't tempt me."

But the man just laughed again, despite the fact that he was probably having trouble breathing with the wand jammed straight into the middle of his throat. "Go ahead," he repeated clearly. "Play the hero."

"Where are the rest of you arseholes hiding out?" Uncle Ron ignored his taunts altogether. "None of the rest brave enough to stand up and face us?"

"Oh, they're bored with all your stupid antics. You ought to do a better job of sneaking up on people- we knew hours before you even got here."

And they kept arguing back and forth as I eyed my wand that was lying just a few feet from where I was standing. I did my best to inch toward it without bringing any attention to myself. I heard something about how the Ministry was to blame for all this for letting some "bitch" muck it all up with her "filthy Muggle blood," and then, of course, I heard the sound of a nose break as blood splattered against the wall.

I was maybe half a foot away from my wand, though, when a loud popping noise drew all of our attention. Another man, maybe a few years younger than the one currently being pinned against the wall Apparated into the room with his wand drawn. I lunged for my own, but he apparently saw me and didn't think twice about ending my life.

And that's when it happened.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The whole thing seemed like slow motion- the words, the awful flash of green light that's far more terrifying than you would ever imagine just hearing about it, and the way my uncle immediately dropped what he was doing and shoved me out of the way. At first, I didn't realize that he'd been hit instead, but then I saw him hit the floor and saw him staring straight up into nothingness, not moving, not breathing…

The next few seconds seemed to have the opposite effect from the slow motion of the previous seconds. I wasn't even sure I was hearing everything correctly, as I was mostly just in shock, staring down at the body beside me.

"You fuck!" screamed the toothless man. "That was fucking Weasley's husband! We gotta get out of here!"

The newer addition stared at the body, too, his eyes wide and terrified. "I didn't know…"

"Just go!" shouted the other one, hurrying to the other side of the room to collect his own fallen wand.

"What about the kid?"

"Just _go!" _he repeated sharply. "You wanna kill a fucking Potter, too?!"

And I stood there and did nothing.

I could have killed them. Or, at the very least, done something to detain them until the footsteps I could hear pounding down the hallway arrived. But I did nothing. I just stood there, wand once again trembling in hand, and looked down at Uncle Ron as he lay dead right beside me. And so I let them leave. They Disapparated right in front of me, and fifteen seconds later when Dad came hurtling into the room, I couldn't do anything besides stand there shaking.

And so, what now? Am I supposed to tell Rose all of this? She's still staring at me expectantly, and I know I need to grow a pair of fucking balls and tell her. But the truth is, I'm just a coward. I was too much of a coward to do anything to help her dad, and now I'm too much of a coward to tell her the truth.

So I just stare at her.

"_Albus Severus Potter_," she says sharply, in a voice that sounds far, _far _too much like her mum and actually makes me feel as if I'm about to be in huge trouble. "Tell me what is going on."

Her face is sort of paler than usual, and I can tell she's trying really hard not to jump to conclusions and be hysterical at my odd behavior. She knows something's wrong, and she's not stupid enough to believe it's something childish. I wouldn't come all the way out to Ireland, especially at this hour, if it weren't something serious.

"Your dad died." I just barely whisper the words, and I look down at the floor as I say them. I hear a gasp, but it isn't Rose. It's Lola, I guess, who is still standing at the end of the counter watching the scene play out. Rose doesn't make any noise. She's completely silent.

Finally, I force myself to look up.

She's staring at me, completely dumbfounded. She's in shock maybe, I dunno. I just know she looks like she's about to pass out.

"Rose..." I start, but then I let my voice trail off. I don't know what to say. So I just say her name again, "Rose…"

"Shut up," she snaps suddenly, and I look at her just in time to see her eyes narrow dangerously. "Shut up, shut up, shut _up!"_

"Rose-"

"I said shut up!" she shrieks, and her eyes flash to a much darker shade than her natural brown. "You fucking, lying _bastard!"_

I take a step backwards unconsciously. It feels like the safest thing to do, especially because she's got a truly murderous look on her face. I've known Rose my entire life. I know a rage blackout when I see it.

"You fucking lying piece of shit!" she shouts, and the step I took back no longer matters as she moves forward enough to shove me rather roughly, hard enough that I fall back against the wall and have nowhere else to move. "I _hate _you!"

She hits me then, really hits me, and it hurts. She's always been able to pack a punch, but we got over the fighting phase when we were about seven years old, so I guess I'm not used to it. I'm pretty sure she's split my lip, though, because I now taste blood mixed in with the stale hint of vomit I can still feel in my mouth. It's sickening. I know I should try and at least defend myself as she continues to pound my chest and arms and any other bit she can get at, but I don't bother. I suppose I deserve it, don't I?

Rose keeps shouting all sorts of awful things, and she's swearing more than I can ever remember her swearing (which is saying a _lot, _trust me). She keeps shoving me and hitting me and shouting, and she doesn't stop until Lola finally decides to intervene. I've forgot about her, but she shows up then and tries dragging Rose backwards. She's probably afraid for my life or something. I'm not quite as concerned.

Rose shrugs her off, though, and yanks her arm away from her friend's grasp. She doesn't turn around and start firing off at me again, though, she just glares at me. And then her eyes start watering up.

"I _hate _you," she spits out evenly.

And then she turns around and slams the door to her bedroom. There's a loud crash from her room, and I'm pretty sure it's a safe assumption that she's just smashed something. On top of the crashing, though, there's crying- loud, awful sobs that I'm sure are a mixture of anger and helplessness.

Lola is standing across from me, and I can tell by the look on her face that she's in complete shock. I shouldn't be surprised, really, considering she's only known Rose for the past couple of years and completely missed out her whole angry, unstable child/teenager thing. Lola looks pretty terrified, and we just look at each other awkwardly.

Finally, she picks up the towel I previously used to wipe my mouth and hands it to me again. I take it and wipe away the blood that's still trickling from my lip.

"I don't know what to do," she says quietly, and the hyper flirt from earlier is completely gone. Now she just looks like a scared little girl who's just seen her best mate go crazy. I feel a bit sorry for her… only, she isn't Rose's best mate. _I _am.

And I'm absolute shit at it.

"Just make sure she goes home," I mumble, tossing the towel back into the sink and heading for the door. I don't think I'm really in a position to Apparate back to the border right now, but a chilling late night stroll couldn't possibly make me feel any worse.

Lola just nods a bit and stands aside so that I can pass. I head back down the stairs from their flat and into the unfamiliar street. It's even colder than I imagined it would be, but I can barely feel it. All I feel is disgust. But what else am I to feel after I've managed to ruin so many lives in one night?

I wish someone was here to hit me again.

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A/N: Okay, so thanks, of course, for all the reviews and everything. No, I didn't purposely kill him on his birthday! I actually didn't even think of it… So we're just going to ignore that little detail for now! Haha. Thanks for reading!


	31. Scorpius, March 2nd

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 31

**SCORPIUS**

**March 2****nd**

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"Now listen, you wanker. Don't you go out there and fuck this up for yourself, you hear me? I don't want you out there embarrassing me and the rest of the team, either. You got that?"

Call is staring at me expectantly, and I nod, trying to push down the rather ill feeling that's quickly settling in my stomach. I don't remember ever feeling this nervous before in my life. Well, at least with anything that's had to do with Quidditch. Quidditch has always been the one thing I was pretty naturally good at. Even when I was rubbish at most everything else, I could always do fairly decently on the Quidditch pitch. And over the years, it just got easier and easier.

But now, I'm not too sure I'm any good at all.

I nod anyway, though, swallowing the lump in my throat and doing my best to hide the horrific nervousness that's seeping through every inch of my body right now. It's the English Seeker trials, and by some crazy twist of fate, I ended up with an invitation. I don't honestly think I've got a shot in hell of making the team, but it's still surreal to even be at the trials. Several of my teammates have been invited to the English trials this year, not too surprising, I guess, considering we're only two matches way from a completely perfect and undefeated season. It's still mad, though. Unbelievable.

"And don't think those fuckers out there won't have it out for you because they will," Call snaps. Any onlooker might think he's royally pissed off or something, but I've come to accept that that's just the way his face looks. He's not angry really, he's just a very abrasive person, and he often gives off a really angry sort of vibe.

I nod again. "Right," I mutter, grabbing the glass of water beside me and chugging it. "They've got it out for me."

"Yes, they do," Call carries right on. "And don't think they aren't waiting for you to fuck up! They'll come in their pants if they think there's a chance you're going to fuck up, you remember that!"

Right.

In their pants.

"_Malfoy!" _

My head jerks up at the sound of my name, and I see one of the coordinators standing at the changing room door with his list. He catches my eye and makes some sort of weird motion with his hand that I'm guessing he thinks I understand.

"You're on deck," Call translates. And then he claps me on my back in a very un-Call-like way. "You'll be fine, mate. You're a natural."

Ha. That's a first. Usually he tells me I'm a piece of shit and that my only hope of catching the Snitch is if it comes up and has tea on my dick (yes, he said those exact words once). But I know better than to question encouragement. I need all the help I can get right now. Besides, I'm too sick to do anything but nod nervously.

The door to the changing room opens again, and two blokes come in chatting excitedly over something in the newspaper. I try not to get distracted, as I need to be as focused as possible, but it's difficult. Whatever they're gossiping about has got to be pretty exciting, as they're both talking quickly and loudly.

"Whoever did this better never come out of hiding, or they're fucked for _sure!" _

"_Dead _is more like it. What kind of idiot would think they could kill a Weasley and get away with it?"

That catches my attention, of course, and I stop trying to ignore them. My head snaps around to where they're sitting on a bench across the room, still bent over the paper.

"_That _Weasley especially? There's no way they can get out of that."

I feel the sick feeling in my stomach change to something sharper and more noticeable. My breath speeds up just a bit, and I feel my eye start to twitch.

"Malfoy…" Call says my name just as I stand up. He's heard them, too, of course, and he knows exactly what's going through my head. He actually sounds worried, but I ignore him.

I walk over to the men and don't even bother asking or saying anything at all as I grab the newspaper out of their hands and turn it over. The headline glares up at me like some sort of evil chant or something. I'm ashamed to say I'm relieved that it's not what I feared. But at the same time, it's nearly just as bad.

"What're you doing?!" asks one of the guys I snatched the paper from. "Fuck off!" He tries to grab it back, but I turn my back to him, ignoring them both altogether.

_**RON WEASLEY MURDERED.**_

Three words.

I attempt a quick scan of the article, but it's pretty pointless. I can't comprehend them, and anyway, it doesn't matter. The headline says it all.

I feel ashamed of myself for being relieved. It's selfish, considering I'm quite sure Rose would be happier dead than reading this article. But I wouldn't be. What would I do if…

Rose.

"Look, you gotta focus." Call breaks into my line of sight and takes the newspaper away from me. I look at him through a daze, and I can tell he's starting to worry. "You can worry about this later."

"I have to go."

I don't even think twice about saying it. I grab my clothes and start pulling off the Quidditch kit.

"Malfoy, don't be stupid. Think about your future."

I don't have to. I already know what my future's supposed to be. And even if it doesn't work out that way, I still have to be there. I start stuffing everything else into my bag and sling it over my shoulder as I dig out my wand.

"They won't give you a second chance."

"I don't care!" I very nearly shout it, and Call looks shocked by my forwardness. "This is more important."

He doesn't say anything else, just sighs a little and shakes his head. He thinks I'm stupid, I know, but I don't care. I don't care about anything right now besides getting there. To her. I need to see her and make sure that she's alright.

It won't take more than a few minutes to get there by Apparation. I don't even honestly know if I _can _Apparate there, though, as there are very strict security measures surrounding that house, and only certain verified people are allowed access via Apparition or the Floo. I was one of those people, but now… Now I'm not so sure. I try anyway, though, and it works- apparently Rose hasn't thought to ban me from her house yet. When I get there, though, I'm a bit surprised. I don't know what I expected, but I guess I thought her house would be full of people and commotion, but it isn't. It's quiet. I go to Rose's room, and it's empty. Maybe the entire house is empty. Maybe Rose isn't even home yet. Maybe the newspaper was fake.

I give up on that theory, though, when a door opens up behind me, and I turn around to see her coming out of the bathroom. It's only just after one in the afternoon, but she's in pajamas, and her hair is soaking wet. I suppose she's just got out of the shower, judging from her appearance. And I can tell by her face and her red eyes that the newspaper wasn't a fake.

She doesn't see me straight away, and it isn't until she's actually in her bedroom that she notices me standing there. She stops and just stares at me for a really long time. It's going to be awkward. We haven't seen each other in two months. She probably hates me. I open my mouth to say something, but then her eyes well up, and she starts shaking a little bit.

"Are you alright?" It's a stupid question, I know, but I don't know what else to say.

Instead of the requisite nod or shrug or whatever else most people would give in that situation, Rose shakes her head wordlessly, and tears spill from the corners of her eyes. She looks like a little girl standing there, and I don't even know who takes the first step, but she's got her face smashed into my chest and her arms are wrapped so tightly around my waist that I almost think I might suffocate, though. It doesn't matter, though. She's sobbing- big, huge sobs that make a lot of noise and cause her entire body to convulse. That doesn't matter, either. All that matters at that moment is that she's here. In flesh and bone and in person.

And _fuck, _I've missed her.

Rose is everything, whether I want to admit it or not. She's everything. Maybe it's because I've spent so much of my life obsessing over her, but I just _need _her. And she needs me. And that's all that matters.

She keeps crying, and every time she lets out a new sob, she seems to try and grab me even closer. I hold her and let her cry. I don't know what else to do, but I have the feeling that there really _isn't _anything else. This is what she needs right now, and, in a way, it's what I need, too. The few seconds that passed right before I was able to get my hands on the paper were the most terrifying of my life. Horrible now, of course, and terrible to be relieved at the headline instead of instantly devastated. But she's okay. And she's right here. And I really don't think I can ever stand to let her go again.

I don't know how long we stand there like that until she finally lifts her face and looks up at me. She's barefoot, so I've got a couple of inches on her now. Her face is tear-streaked and sticky, and her eyes are so red that you can barely see any white at all.

"I didn't know if you'd come…"

She's still got both her arms around my waist, but I take my hands and move them to her cheeks, wiping away a few of the tears that are still falling. She closes her eyes for a second as my fingers brush over them, and when she opens them back, I want to cry, too.

"I would never leave you alone."

It's the truth, too. I dip my head just enough to kiss her forehead, and then I hug her again, letting one hand fall to the back of her hair as she lays her head against my chest again. I can hear every breath that she takes, and while she isn't loudly sobbing anymore, she lets out little audible cries every now and then when her body involuntarily shudders. But I just keep holding her and playing with her curls until she finally pulls back and leads me over to the bed where we both fall pretty gracelessly.

Rose has a ton of pillows. There's at least ten that she keeps piled up at the head of her bed, and we lie back against them. Rose positions her head on my chest again, and I keep my arms around her. I feel this overwhelming need to protect her.

"I wanted you to come," she says quietly without raising her head. "But I didn't know…"

"Rose," I cut her off. "I'm here."

Nothing else needs to be said, and for awhile, it isn't. But then she looks up at me out of nowhere and says, "Oh, my god. You're supposed to be at the trials."

I raise my eyebrows at her questioningly. "How did you even know that…"

"I read." It's a simple answer, and her eyes search mine as she moves to sit up. "You need to go-"

But I pull her back down. "I'm staying with you."

She keeps her eyes locked tightly on mine as she lowers her head back down to the pillows. And then she lifts one hand and gently smoothes away some of my hair. I think for a second that maybe she's going to kiss me. But she doesn't. Instead, her lower lip starts to tremble, and a few fresh tears leak from the corner of her eyes.

"Scorpius, I'm sorry," she whispers desperately. "I shouldn't have said no… I-"

"Shh…" I put a finger to her lips and leave it there for a few seconds as she stops talking. "It's okay."

But she shakes her head miserably. "I don't want to lose you."

"I'm right here, okay?" I say gently, and it feels completely natural to wrap my arms around her and pull her closer.

"Don't leave." It's barely audible as she pushes her face back into my neck.

The thought of leaving her is absurd. I can't believe I was even away from her as long as I was. Why did I ever let her go in the first place?

We lie like that a bit longer, and she eventually calms down to a point where I almost think she's asleep. Her breathing evens out, and she stops crying. I keep gently stroking her hair, thinking that she's actually drifted off, but then she mumbles something almost inaudibly.

"Why did this happen?"

What am I supposed to say? I've got no answer for her. I can't _believe _it, much less make sense of it.

"What happened?" I ask gently, realizing that I haven't got the slightest idea what or _how _this happened, so I certainly can't give her a reason as to _why_.

She doesn't raise up and look at me or anything, just keeps talking in that shaky, barely understandable voice. "Somebody killed him. I don't know why…"

"Where's your mum?"

"I don't know." She lets out a breath that she's apparently been holding in, and I feel it against my neck. "I think she took Landon to my grandparents'."

"Hugo?"

"I don't know."

I pull her a bit closer, and she curls into me easily. We don't say anything else, and the silence is somehow comforting. Rose eventually does fall asleep, and I just lie there with her and let her nap. She's beautiful when she sleeps- she's always beautiful, but when she sleeps, her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks in the most amazing way, and her chest rises and falls evenly and smoothly.

I can't imagine what she's feeling, though.

How could this happen? Things like this aren't supposed to happen. You're not supposed to bury your parents when you're still a kid. And Rose isn't the most stable person I've ever known anyway, so I'm sure this is going to be even worse on her. I don't ignore the stab of guilt that I feel, knowing damn well that I haven't exactly made her life any easier lately. In fact, I've been a complete prick, and I've probably hurt her worse than I ever meant to.

I couldn't help it, though. I was so _angry. _And I just felt betrayed- betrayed that I could lay everything out on the table like that while she pretty much just took a shit on it. But I know I screwed up, too. I shouldn't have asked her like that, and I should have made more of an effort before that. Things haven't been great for Rose and me in a long time, and I probably didn't pay as much attention as I should have. I let other things take priority over her, and I never should have done that. She _is _the most important part of my life, and she has been for a really long time. I shouldn't have let other shit and other people come between that.

I want to take it all back and make it so that none of it ever happened. The simple fact that Rose said she wasn't sure if I'd show up makes me feel like a complete dick. But what else should she think? She wrote me exactly three letters since that awful proposal/break up night, and I ignored every single one of them. I read them and threw them away. And I could tell just from her letters that she was miserable and depressed. And that it was _my _fault. But I didn't care- or rather I _did _care, but I didn't do anything about it because I was hurting, too, and I wanted her to feel the same thing she made me feel.

But it was stupid.

And all of that seems so pointless now. Stupid little arguments don't mean shit when it comes to the grand scheme of things, do they? Her father is _dead. _None of the rest of it matters. I won't leave her again, though. I'll take care of her and make sure she's okay, and I'll _never _let anything happen to her. I can't lose her. I almost did, and I won't let it happen again.

She sleeps for a long time, and I just lie with her and watch her. Eventually, the room starts to darken as the sun goes down, but I stay with her and don't make any attempt at all to wake her up or anything. She needs to rest. It is tiring, though, isn't it? Watching someone else sleep, I mean. After several hours, I let my own eyes close, and what seems like only seconds later, they fly open again as the sound of a door opening wakes me.

We're no longer alone in her room. Her mother is standing in the doorway, and the light from the hallway spreads dimly into the bedroom. Mrs. Weasley looks exhausted and drained as she meets my eye. For a second, I worry. The few times I've been caught in Rose's room without permission haven't exactly ended well, though it's been a couple of years since the last time. We're older now and adults for all legal purposes, but I'm sure we're both still kids to our parents. Perhaps her mother will be mad that I'm in her daughter's bed, not to mention the fact that I'm in her house uninvited and unannounced. And, of course, the fact that I'm sure she knows perfectly well that Rose and I have not been on particularly good terms lately.

She doesn't mention any of this, though, just catches my eye for a few seconds and then asks, "Is she asleep?"

I nod, careful not to disturb Rose.

Her mother nods as well. "Good," she says slowly. "She should rest."

She stares at Rose for a few seconds later, and then she quietly steps back out of the room and closes the door behind her. I can hear her footsteps as they head back toward and down the staircase. For a moment, I just stay where I am and look at Rose as she carries right on sleeping peacefully. She hasn't moved in the slightest since she first drifted off. As quietly as I can, I remove her arm from its resting place over my waist and untangle myself from her to stand up.

When I go downstairs, I find her mother in the kitchen. She's alone, and I'm not one-hundred percent positive what I'm doing or why I even left the bedroom. It's not as if I have anything in particular to say to her mother that might make any difference or help in any way, but I still find myself standing in the doorway watching her as she rummages through the cabinets and finally pulls down some coffee.

"Need any help?" I ask, feeling just a bit uncomfortable and out of place.

She looks over at me, apparently just noticing my presence. But she shakes her head as she starts preparing the coffee the Muggle way. She does lots of things the Muggle way, I've noticed. It's odd, though I suppose she _is _Muggle-born. But it's still odd that the Minister of Magic would opt _out _of magic for so many tasks.

"How's Rose?" she asks as she continues fiddling around with the coffeemaker. I have no idea what she's doing.

"She's okay," I say quietly, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "She doesn't know what happened…"

"No one's told her yet." She says it briskly and pointedly, almost as if she's telling me that it's raining outside or something. I don't say anything back, just wait for her to clarify a bit, and she does. "The curse was aimed at Al."

I have nothing to say to that. I stand where I am, shocked beyond belief. That takes it to an entirely new level, and I've got a feeling Rose won't react to that news so well once she hears it. Mrs. Weasley finishes with the coffee and then takes down a mug for herself.

"Want some?" she asks, still not looking over to me.

"Please," I mutter, and she pours us both mugs of coffee. She hands me one and then sits down at the kitchen table. I feel awkward still standing, so I join her. "I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I can't even imagine how you must feel…" It's stupid, yes. I don't know what else to say, though. I never know what to say in this sort of situation.

She just nods, though. Apparently she doesn't expect me to be overly verbose about it. "Thank you." She sips her coffee slowly. "And thank you for coming. I was going to call you, I just got distracted."

"I came as soon as I heard," I say, taking a sip of my own coffee. I'm not much of a coffee person, so I'm not that used to it. "I'll take care of her," I add, lowering my eyes down to the table.

"I know."

"I didn't know if she'd want me here," I admit, feeling a brand new wave of fresh guilt.

"She needs you." Mrs. Weasley sounds very far away, as if she's not actually speaking to me, but more so just taking and existing.

"I didn't mean to hurt her…" I know she's heard the whole story, and I'm sure she's seen how upset I made her daughter.

"We always hurt the people we love the most." I look up then to see that she's now staring out in front of her. She looks very tired, but her eyes aren't red and her cheeks aren't tearstained. I expected her to have the same appearance as Rose, but she doesn't. And she isn't crying now, either. I wonder if she's in shock. Suddenly, though, she looks over at me and meets my eye. "Rose is a strong person," she says firmly. "But sometimes she thinks she's stronger than she really is."

It strikes me how true that statement is. I've never heard a more spot-on description of Rose before, but I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised- after all, she _is _her mother. I wonder if my mother could ever say something so incredibly true about me. I sort of doubt it. But Mrs. Weasley is right- Rose has a habit of pretending that things aren't as difficult as they might actually be. She puts on a front that makes her seem quite invincible, but she's actually very sensitive underneath.

"Well, I'll take care of her," I say again, and it seems like the only bit of help I can provide at all. But it's the truth. I'll do anything for her. "Are you alright?" I ask finally. "Where's Landon?"

"He's at my sister-in-law's." She cups her hands around the mug and brings it back to her lips. "Hugo is with my mother," she answers my next question before I ask it.

"Do you need me to do anything?" I ask, trying to offer some kind of help and make myself at least partially useful.

But she just shakes her head and offers me a weak smile. "No, but thank you for offering."

That smile looks so sad that it almost seems like it might lead to tears. I can tell she's trying very hard to pretend as if everything's normal.

"You look tired," I tell her, and again, I glance down at the table.

"I'm fine." She takes another drink of her coffee, this time a longer drink. "I can't be tired, there's too much to do."

"I can help-"

I start to offer again, but she gives me another fake smile and shakes her head. "I can handle it. You just take care of Rose, okay?"

I frown but nod anyway. "Okay."

"She loves you very much," she says out of nowhere. "You mean everything to her."

If I were a Weasley, I'd probably blush now. But I'm not, and my skin doesn't flush easily. So I just nod and keep my eyes fixed on the table top.

"She hasn't had it easy," she goes on. "I worry about her a lot…" Her voice trails for a moment and she sips her drink thoughtfully. "But she's always better with you… You really have helped her _so _much. More than you probably know."

"I love her…"

Mrs. Weasley just nods. "I know. And thank you for that," she adds a second later. "It means more than I can say."

This is strange. We've never had this sort of heart to heart before, and honestly, I've never even been sure if her parents like me at all. Sure, her mother's always been polite to me, but I know when she looks at me, she sees my father. I know her father did, too. They have always made an effort, but I know it's been difficult for them to accept me. It's not as if my own parents have ever jumped for joy over Rose, though it has never been as big of an issue as, say, my grandfather would like to make it. But still, this is nice.

"If you need anything," I say again, mostly because I don't know what else to say, "just let me know…"

She smiles again, though her eyes look void of any sort of emotion. "Of course."

"I'm gonna go check on Rose." It sounds the lease abrasive. Less so than, say, I'm going back upstairs to Rose's bedroom. Even though we're older and even in this situation, I still feel uncomfortable admitting to her mother that I'm heading up to the bedroom.

But she doesn't seem to even be close to that train of thought. She just nods and shakes her head when I start to carry my cup over to the sink. "I'll get it." But then she stands up at the same time I do, and I look at her and wonder what she's going to do.

Then she hugs me.

It's… nice. My own mother isn't really the hugging type. Not that I was ignored or neglected or abused or anything like that, but affection isn't really shown in my house. Not much anyway. Hugs are reserved for things like goodbyes at the train station and that sort of thing. Not for 7:00 on a Saturday night. Of course, this situation _is _out of the ordinary, but it's nice nonetheless. I hug her back even though it's a bit weird, but she doesn't seem to notice the weirdness.

"Thank you," she says again as she pulls away and takes a small step backwards. "Thank you for taking care of her."

And I nod awkwardly and then disappear back up the stairs. Rose is still sleeping soundly in her bed, and I carefully lay down beside her, almost desperate to get my arms around her. I do just that, and she rolls into me unconsciously. I love her so much.

I don't want to ever let her go again.

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A/N: Yeah, so y'all all knew that Scorpius was going to swoop in and save the day, right? Well, of course he did! Unfortunately, he can't fix _all _the drama, so there's plenty more to come. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	32. Hugo, March 3rd

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 32

**HUGO**

**March 3****rd**

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It's a weird thing to wake up the morning after you find out about your father's death.

When I do, I find myself in a semi-unfamiliar bed with a flowered bedspread and baby blue walls. It takes me about thirty seconds to comprehend that I'm in the extra bedroom of my grandparents' house. Rose and I used to sleep in this room sometimes when we were younger, but it's probably been literally eight or nine years since the last time I spent the night here.

This thought makes me feel guilty as I push back the blanket and get out of bed. I haven't spent the time with my mum's parents that I've always spent with my dad's. In fact, I don't even _know _anyone on this side of the family besides my grandparents, and now that my grandpa died, that only leaves my nana.

It's this realization that makes me remember yesterday.

I was still asleep when Neville came and woke me up and told me to come downstairs. I asked what was wrong, but he just shook his head and told me to get some clothes on and meet him downstairs. I sleepily got out of bed and pulled on a pair of wrinkled jeans and a t-shirt, threw some water on my face, and stumbled down the stairs. I knew something was wrong the whole way, but I couldn't think of what. I hoped I was just in trouble or something, but I knew that I wouldn't be woken up while it was still dark outside to serve detention. I glanced at my watch- 4:29 AM.

Neville was waiting for me when I finally made it to the Common Room, and I finally took a full look at his face. It was solemn and upset, and I knew this was about more than just detention. I asked again what was wrong, but he said nothing, just motioned for me to follow him. His office is right off of the Common Room, so we didn't go far, but the second I walked in, I wanted to walk right back out.

Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny were both sitting inside, and they both looked like death rolled over. Apparently no amount of revitalizing makeup or spells can cover up _that. _They'd been crying, and I was willing to wager on first glance that neither of them had been to bed. I looked around for Lily and the rest of my cousins and accepted the fate that I knew was coming. I'd imagined it as soon as I was pulled out of bed, but I had refused to believe it. Something had happened to Nana or Granddad. And now we were getting the news.

But that wasn't it.

No one else was there, and there was no way they would leave the rest of them out of this conversation. But maybe they already knew? Maybe I took too long getting dressed and the rest of them were upstairs packing their things for the trip home. That had to be it.

I looked up just in time to see Neville leaving and closing the door behind him. There was silence in the little office, and Aunt Ginny had already begun crying again. She looked miserable, of course, but I could only imagine how horrible it must feel for her to lose one of her parents. When my grandpa died, Mum was a mess for weeks, and she still wasn't completely over it.

Uncle Harry was looking at her, too, and he said nothing for a second as he ran a hand through his already messed up hair and drew in an unsteady breath. Then he looked over at me, and the look on his face went from what appeared to be worry to straight devastation. I didn't know why it was worse to look at me than it was to look at his wife, but I tried very hard not think about it.

Finally, he spoke. "Hugo," and he stood up as he spoke. His voice was quiet and broken, and I felt bad that he was having to tell me. It was obviously really upsetting him, not that I was surprised, of course, as Granddad and Nana were the only parents _he _ever knew as well. After he stood up, though, he just stared at me and didn't finish his thought.

"What's wrong?" I asked, and then, to help him out a bit, "Did something happen to Nana or Granddad?" It would be easier for him, I imagined, if he could just nod and then tell me which one.

But he didn't nod.

He shook his head. And then he took his glasses off and wiped his eyes before putting them back on, and I could see that he was crying again. It was the first time in my whole life that I ever saw him cry.

"It's your dad…"

Three words. That's all it took to literally crash my entire world. The whole room seemed to tilt, and I backed up against Neville's desk just to steady myself. It almost seemed like time was caught at a standstill, and everything just stopped.

And then I found my voice. "Is he okay?"

I looked up to where my uncle was standing in front of me, still crying quiet tears. And he shook his head. No. He wasn't okay. That meant he was dead. That meant it was _me _who was losing a parent today, not my aunt.

And it felt worse than I even imagined.

Honestly, I don't remember starting to cry, but I suppose I did because Aunt Ginny used a handkerchief to wipe my eyes as she hugged me. I don't remember her getting up to hug me, either, though, so that could be some sort of indication of my current mental state and awareness. She was still crying, really crying, but I just felt sort of numb as she hugged me.

"Where's Mum?" I managed to ask.

"She's at home," Uncle Harry managed to explain, and he took my shoulders and led me over to a chair where I sat down gratefully. I didn't exactly feel steady on my feet, and the new position was a welcome change that made me feel at least a _bit _sturdier, though my head still felt as if it could spin off my shoulders at any second.

Aunt Ginny muttered something about going to get Lily and disappeared from the office. I sat in the chair, still dazed by the news. And my uncle just leaned against the desk and said nothing. He was still crying, though it was impossible to tell if you weren't looking directly at him. He kept reaching up to wipe his eyes under his glasses, and he kept running his hand nervously through his hair. He seemed almost sort of lost, and I wondered then how my mother was.

Devastated, I imagined. Inconsolable and hysterical. As bad as she was when Grandpa died, she must be a million times worse now. If Uncle Harry was this bad, Mum must have been positively _mental. _

But an hour later, after Lily, Roxie, and Louis had all been given the news and we'd all got special permission to use the Floo to leave, I found myself clutching a bag I didn't remember packing and stepping into the fireplace of my home. Uncle Harry was with me (Aunt Ginny took the others to their own homes), and we both stepped right into the absolute silence that was my house. Mum was fumbling through some paperwork at the dining room table, and my grandmother was seated across from her looking more worried than I ever remembered seeing her. She'd been crying, I could tell, but Mum looked no different than if she were doing routine work for her job.

I didn't understand.

She stopped when we arrived, and she got up to hug me. She took me to the kitchen alone and started fussing over me, preparing tea and toast and apologizing because she hadn't got breakfast started yet. I glanced at the clock, and it still wasn't even six in the morning. I didn't know what to say, so I just let her sit me down and pour me some tea. And then she asked me if I was okay and told me that everything was going to be fine.

And I wondered maybe if she'd actually lost her mind.

I spent the rest of the day with my grandmother. Mum whispered to me that Nana needed someone with her and that things were going to be busy and boring at home. She told me I didn't have to go if I didn't want to, but I could already tell that things were going to be weirder than I could probably handle, so I went. I think maybe Mum was just using me as an excuse to get rid of her mother, as she seemed more than eager to tell her that I didn't need to be around while they were "taking care of things." I didn't know what things- the funeral, I suppose. But with Mum acting that way and Uncle Harry _crying, _I didn't particularly want to hang around and see how things played out- specifically how _Rose _reacted. I had a feeling that would be even worse. So I went. And Nana spent all day fussing over me and asking every five minutes if I was alright. I almost considered going back home, but then I remembered the scene from early that morning and stuck it out.

And so here I am.

I grab my overnight and head down the hallway to the bathroom where I start stripping out of my nightclothes and step into the shower. The water is hotter than I like it, and I have a bit of trouble figuring out how to turn it to the right temperature. Finally, though, I manage, and I let all the water roll over me as I think of yesterday and wonder how today's going to be. I'm still so tired, despite the fact that I slept pretty soundly last night- more soundly than I would have imagined. I think my body knew there were only two options- sleep and forget or stay awake and dwell. Maybe that's why I'm still so tired.

It doesn't seem real.

How can you just wake up one day and your dad is dead? It's not as if he were sick and dying for a long time like Grandpa. When Grandpa died, we all knew it was coming, and it was just a waiting game. Cancer doesn't come up and strike you dead one day, not like _Avada Kedavra. _When you lose someone to cancer, you've got time to prepare and process it. When someone's murdered, you don't get that. And how is it even possible that your dad just gets murdered one day? Things like that don't really happen…

Except they do.

Unfortunately, I am not the first student to be pulled out of school this year because of murder. There have been several students, Muggleborns, been pulled out because their entire _families _have been murdered. And my dad was trying to stop that. Only it got _him _killed as well. But it's too weird, it just doesn't make any sense. _My _parents aren't supposed to be killed- if they were supposed to be killed, they would have died ages ago when they were fighting Voldemort and all that crap. But they didn't. If they lived through that, they were supposed to be safe.

But they weren't.

And now my dad's dead.

I slip back into that daze and don't even realize I'm out of the shower until I'm searching through the linen closet for a towel. There's only two in here. Apparently Nana doesn't use this bathroom, and since she doesn't often entertain guests, she must not keep the closet well-stocked. I dry off and hang the wet towel up as I start pulling clothes out of my bag and getting dressed. I glance in the mirror when I'm finished and take note of my wet hair, which is sticking up in every possible direction. I start rummaging through the drawers looking for a comb while I brush my teeth with my other hand. I find one and manage to at least make it lie down for the time being.

And then I go downstairs to the kitchen. Nana's already got breakfast going, and from the looks of it, she's expecting about fifteen people for the meal. Only I know she's not. She's made all this for me, thinking that the best way to take care of me at the moment is to fill my stomach to its absolute capacity. I'm not even hungry, but I don't say anything as she kisses me and then shoos me over to the table. I sit down and say nothing as she fills a plate with every imaginable breakfast food in the world. She puts a few strawberries and a piece of toast on her own plate and sits down across from me.

"I didn't know what you like to drink," she says as she motions to the three different types of fruit juice, coffee, and tea that are all setting out on the table.

"Thanks," I mutter, reaching for the orange juice and pouring some into the empty glass beside my overflowing plate. She's giving me that grandmothery sort of look that lets me know she isn't entirely sure of my ability to pour the juice, despite the fact that I'm nearly eighteen years old.

"If you want anything else, just let me know," she says with fake brightness. She's been crying already, I can tell. "I just cooked what I remembered you liked."

Apparently as a child, I must have liked a lot more foods than I do now, considering the fact that I can't remember the last time I ate any form of omelet without getting nauseous. I don't say this, though, just nod and reach for a piece of toast. I don't really know what else my stomach can handle right now, so I nibble on it slowly.

"And I made blueberry muffins," Nana speaks up, motioning toward a basket. "I wasn't sure of your favorite, but these are the ones your brother is mad for."

I hate blueberry, but I just nod and try to smile. "Thanks," I mutter again, still nibbling on the dry toast.

Nana doesn't say anything for awhile after that, just eats her strawberries and sips her coffee. It's awkward, and the silence sounds a lot louder than it should. It's uncomfortable, and it leaves plenty of opportunity to think about everything else. Like the fact that this is really happening. I'm eating breakfast, and my dad's dead. My dad's dead, my mum's mental, and I haven't even seen my brother and sister.

"Oh, love…" Nana stands up and comes around the table to where I'm sitting. She grabs a napkin and uses it to wipe my cheeks. I'm fucking crying again. Of course. I don't know why I can't ever tell beforehand and stop myself. It's embarrassing, though, and I turn my head and rub furiously at my eyes to stop the tears. Nana straightens up, and I can tell I've hurt her feelings.

"Sorry," I say, ducking my head. "I'm fine."

"Hugo," she says slowly, "it's alright to cry."

Now I'm even more embarrassed. "I'm fine," I say again, lifting my head and proving my words, as the tears have stopped falling. "Have you talked to my mum?"

She nods and looks worried. I can tell she wants to fuss over Mum, but Mum won't let her. I feel guilty, of course, for also denying her that right. I try to avoid that particular strain of guilt, though, and ask her instead what Mum had to say.

"She just says she's terribly busy. You know your mum… always has to have her hands in _something…"_

The way she says it is odd, but I don't ask her to clarify. "Do you know if Rose is home?"

She nods. "Yes, she got home yesterday. I think her boyfriend is there as well."

Her boyfriend? "Scorpius?" Maybe Nana didn't get the memo that they were on the outs. But maybe they're back on the ins now, I dunno.

"Yes," she nods again. "He's staying with her, I believe."

Well, that's an interesting turn of events. Not that I'm too surprised, of course, seeing as how Scorpius, despite the fact that he recently broke up with her, would pretty much do anything in the world for my sister. She's really lucky in that aspect. I know my parents think he's probably crap because they hate his father, but he's not. He's actually really nice, and Rose is a lot nicer when he's around. And trust me, I've waited my whole life for Rose to be nice…

"I think I should probably go home," I say quietly, not knowing at all if it's the right thing to do. Nowhere seems like an ideal place right now, but I don't really know how to get there. So I've got two options- home or not home. And I should at least go _see _my family, I imagine.

Nana isn't surprised apparently because she just nods and smiles a sad sort of smile. "I think that's a good idea." She takes another sip of her coffee. "But you can come back here whenever you like."

We finish breakfast (which really means she finishes her strawberries, and I eat a piece of toast and half a piece of bacon), and then we clear up. She tries to do it alone, but I insist on helping. I've got manners after all, and I may have been raised in a magical home, but all the chores I've ever done have been the Muggle way. I know how to wash the dishes.

Nana doesn't go back to my house with me. She says she'll come by later but that she's got some things she needs to take care of. I don't ask what they are because I don't want to be nosy, and anyway, I suspect that there probably aren't too many things she needs to take care of in the first place- she just wants some time to herself. I can tell she's pretty upset over Dad, and she probably needs some time to process it. I guess I do, too, but I don't really want to.

It's lucky, then, that when I get home, my house is so overrun with people that I don't even have a chance to dwell on it.

The living room is full of people, mostly my aunts and uncles and a few other people. I get accosted nearly immediately the second I step foot into the room. People want to fuss over me, that much is clear. I try not to appear too annoyed, but it honestly bugs the shit out of me. I make a very big effort to keep my face as neutral and as close to appreciative as possible. It's difficult, though, because I'm not five, so I don't enjoy aunts running up to hug me and trying to give me tea and that sort of thing.

I manage to extract myself from the aunts find Mum in the kitchen with Aunt Ginny. They both look like they haven't slept, and I can't imagine they have. They're surprisingly doing nothing besides sitting at the table and staring at each other. They've both got tea, but neither of them are drinking it. And when I walk in, they both look up at me miserably, though Mum quickly tries to force her face into a smile. I don't know why she's even bothering, but I don't say anything.

I sit down before either of them can stand up and hug me. I don't say anything, just fold my arms on the table and rest my chin on them.

"Did Nana come with you?" Mum asks, reaching over to push some of my hair out of my eyes. I don't mind.

I shake my head. "No, she said she has to take care of some things."

"Did you eat?" She keeps her hand in my hair, and it's actually kind of nice.

I roll my eyes at her question, though. "She cooked enough food for the whole of Hogwarts," I say pointedly, and Mum smiles something that almost looks genuine.

"That's what she does," she agrees.

Landon runs into the kitchen then and immediately climbs into the chair beside Aunt Ginny and sits on his knees. "They won't leave me alone!" he announces, clearly annoyed. Everyone laughs, knowing exactly what he's referring to. Surprisingly, none of the laughter sounds forced. Aunt Ginny even goes so far as to reach over and pinch his cheeks teasingly. Landon scowls and ducks away. "Not you, too!"

"If you weren't so damn cute…"

"I'm not _cute," _he says defiantly, and then he seems to notice me. "Where'd you come from?"

"Nice to see you, too," I say sarcastically. And then I sit up and pull a small paper bag out of my coat pocket. "Nana sent this for you."

Landon opens it and pulls a freshly-baked blueberry muffin out. "Thanks!" he says, and I almost laugh again because he's so easily bought with baked goods. She apparently wasn't lying when she said he was mad over those muffins because he devours it within seconds. I'd almost guess that he hadn't already eaten, but I know better, considering the influx of aunts that are currently invading my house. I'm actually surprised that Mum and Aunt Ginny are allowed to be in here alone, but maybe everyone is actually using their brains and correctly deducing that Mum doesn't need to be bothered.

Landon says something that sounds like, "Rowsehthashasgawnshupan," and Mum immediately shakes her head sharply.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, that's so rude."

He rolls his eyes (brave kid) and then swallows dramatically. He then opens his mouth widely to show that it's empty and says, "Rose says that she's going shopping," in a very slow, smart-alecky tone. If I were seven years old (or probably even seventeen) and did any of that, I'd have been in _major _trouble, but apparently Mum is too distracted to notice because she just nods.

"Did she say when she's going?"

But Landon shrugs. "I dunno." And then he reaches for Mum's tea and drinks the rest of it. Mum watches him, and that sad look comes over her again- the one that almost can't even be described as sad because it's emptier than that. It's difficult to label something that doesn't even seem to be there.

"Hey, you want to go play Snap?" I ask, glancing over at Landon who looks at me suspiciously. I don't really blame him. He and I aren't exactly _close, _though we get along fairly well. He much prefers Rose over me and has since the day he was born. Unsurprisingly, _she _prefers _him _over me as well. I feel the need to make an effort, though, and I'm not entirely sure why.

Landon, for all his suspicions, is still just a kid, so he doesn't have the ability yet to pass up a game of cards, even if he _is _wary of the motives. I have a feeling Mum needs time away from us anyway, judging from the way her face went from laughing to lost in a matter of seconds. And Landon doesn't really need to be around it anyway. I don't know what he's been told, but I imagine he's been made aware of the situation. Still, even though he's incredibly smart, I don't know how much a seven year old can really comprehend about, _"Your dad's dead."_

We manage to make it through the crowd of people in the living room without being trapped ad hurry up the stairs to the second floor. The bathroom door's open, and we peek in as we pass it on the way to my room. Rose is at the counter putting lotion on her face. She looks up when we stop, and for half a second, I think she might dissolve into tears. She has definitely spent a good portion of the morning in tears, that much is clear, but she isn't crying now, though. And she manages to stop herself, too.

"Hey," I say dully, mostly because I don't know what else to say.

She repeats it. "Hey."

We stand there awkwardly, and I sort of wish Landon wasn't around so that we could really talk. I have no idea what really happened, and I wonder if she's got any better idea of it. Nobody says anything for a second, and then Rose decides to play the role of concerned big sister to the best of her ability.

"How're you doing?"

I shrug. It doesn't matter how I'm doing, does it? It isn't going to change anything. Still, though, I know she's trying to be nice and do the "right thing," but I don't really need it. She doesn't feel any better than I do, and, in fact, she probably feels worse.

Scorpius shows up then, slipping out of Rose's room and into the hallway where Landon and I are still standing. I guess Nana was right when she said he was here. He gives me a one-cornered smile and lifts his head in acknowledgement.

"Hey," I mutter, not feeling up to a bunch of meaningless small talk. I don't think any of us are actually, so it doesn't really matter.

"Is the entire English population still downstairs?" Rose asks, putting the lotion back into the medicine cabinet and turning around to lift herself into a sitting position on the bathroom counter.

"Yeah, and a bit of the French," I say listlessly.

"When did our house turn into the fucking Burrow?" She rolls her eyes and lifts her feet up to rest against the wall opposite her.

"Mum's barricaded herself in the kitchen with Aunt Ginny. I think she may want to choke the rest of them."

"She should. It'd probably be amusing."

"Why doesn't she just tell them to leave?" It's Scorpius who has asked the question, and he seems genuinely curious. Rose and I meet each other's eyes for a split second and then both laugh.

"Yeah, right," she says, shaking her head. "She could literally have her hands around their throats, and they wouldn't get the picture. Our family's not exactly… good with taking the hint."

"In other words, they're nosey as crap," Landon finishes bluntly.

This causes all of us to laugh again, and Rose uses one of her raised feet to shove Landon in the chest. "Don't swear," she says, giggling anyway.

Landon catches himself before stumbling too far. "Crap isn't swearing."

"It's close enough. You're seven."

"When _you _were seven, you called me a 'shit-fuck tosser' and told me to go jump off a fucking bridge," I remind her pointedly.

She purses her lips and sits up straighter. "I did not," she says firmly. "And you can't prove it anyway," she adds as an after-thought.

We laugh again, mostly because we know that she _did _say it (and that she said plenty more, too), but we also laugh because it keeps our minds off of everything else. It makes things feel strangely normal (not that we normally joke around in the upstairs loo or anything, but you get the idea). It's easier to deal with this sort of thing if you can pretend it's not happening.

"I thought we were gonna play Snap?" Landon asks impatiently, apparently not quite as amused by our childhood memories.

I nod and glance over at Rose who glances at Scorpius, and they both shrug. We all go to my room, and I find a pack of cards stashed from god knows when. We spread ourselves out on the floor, and I start divvying up the cards. It's peacefully normal, and I'm thankful that it isn't all tears and angst and all the rest of the crap I imagined might be happening. Just as we're about to start, though, Landon gets up and goes over to my door. He closes it and turns the lock. When he turns back around, he looks at us all staring at him expectantly.

"To keep all the aunts out," he says flatly. "My cheeks hurt like crap."

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A/N: So, quick update! I feel bad because I've been going longer between updates than normal, but I've had a lot going on, so it's been kind of difficult to grab a few hours to crank out new chapters. This one was easy to write because Hugo is the least angsty of all my main characters. The next few chapters are going to be difficult, so please be patient- I promise not to take too long!

Also, I just want to clarify in case anyone is wondering (and people _are_ wondering…) No, this is not going to turn into Hermione/Draco. Honestly, I don't know what gives off this vibe, but people started asking the same thing during Lessons Learned. If that's what you're hoping for, I'm sorry to disappoint, but seriously? No. Hahaha, sorry….

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	33. March 4th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 33

**March 4****th**

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It was easiest when the house was full. Of course, she also found it positively maddening, seeing as how her family (specifically her sisters-in-law) could be quite overbearing and smothering. It was alright, she supposed, because it kept her mind off of other things. When she was annoyed by her mother or a sister-in-law or even one of her children, she didn't have time to think about what was really going on.

Two and a half days. Specifically, sixty-four hours. That's how long it had been since she first heard the news, and during that time, she'd slept for exactly two hours and seventeen minutes. Surprisingly, she wasn't all that tired. It was almost as if her body refused to give into the natural need for sleep because sleep was the cruelest time of all. Some people would say it was blissful oblivion, but she knew better. Sleep didn't bring any sort of oblivion to her, least of all the peaceful kind. Those two hours she spent sleeping had been riddled by unencumbered dreams, and her mind had nowhere else to focus.

People kept trying to shoo her into her bedroom for a lie down. It seemed as if everyone believed that sleep would be soothing for her. But she couldn't imagine a less soothing place than her bedroom. She avoided it all costs, entering it only to get new changes of clothes and immediately taking them into the downstairs loo to shower and change. The bed hadn't been touched since the moment she found out, and in a bizarre twist of fate, it was unmade and messy. She was a very organized person, and her bed was _never _unkempt, but on the morning in happened, she'd been in too much of a hurry to fix it. And when she arrived home in the evening, she'd been too busy first with Landon and then with work to bother with it. It was too late by then anyway. They'd be going to bed soon, she'd figured, so what was the point of making it just to mess it up only a few hours later?

And so there it was. The sheets were crumpled, the duvet was nearly falling off the end, and the pillows were both crooked and wrinkled.

And she refused to touch it.

She'd snapped at her mother the day before when she'd offered to clean up and had mentioned washing the sheets. She was too mean, of course, and she didn't mean to be. But she'd told her to leave it alone and that she was more than capable of cleaning her own house. Last night, she caught Landon about to climb into the bed, and she grabbed him too roughly, pulled him away, and screamed at him that he knew better than to be playing in her room. And when he'd looked at her with wide eyes of terrified, all too familiar blue, she pulled him to her and hugged him tightly. And then she apologized about fifteen times and carried him off to his own bed where she ended up catching her own two hours of slumber.

And that was the extent of it.

She couldn't sleep. She couldn't let herself fall into that trap because she wasn't ready for it. She wasn't ready for any of it. She wasn't ready to face it, and she wasn't ready to deal with it.

And she wasn't ready to say goodbye.

When she was eighteen years old, he left. He left, and he broke her heart worse than she'd wanted to admit at that time. She cried every night, and she swore to herself that she'd never let him back into a position powerful enough to hurt her like that. It made no sense, really, because at that time, they weren't together. Not really. At the time, they were friends, and while they both knew there was something more underneath, it hadn't yet surfaced. He wasn't her lover, he wasn't her boyfriend, she hadn't even _kissed _him at that point, and yet, he'd honestly broken her heart.

She shouldn't have been surprised. From the time she was just a little girl, he'd always had the ability to hurt her worse than anyone else ever had. When they were kids, he drove her _mad _and did things to annoy her on purpose. Sometimes he was teasing, and sometimes he was actually being mean. And he could always make her cry. Even when she forbid herself from crying, she still ended up in tears.

But that night, that night when he disappeared from the woods after a stupid argument, she cried harder than she'd ever cried in her life. She didn't remember going to sleep that night, and she promised herself right then and there that it would be the _last _time he ever hurt her like that. She wasn't going to give him the power to hurt her anymore. And that's what she told herself over and over every single night until he came back. And she didn't forgive him right away. She was good at holding grudges, and if ever a grudge had been deserved it was then.

But one day she almost died. And she woke up in the spare bedroom of his oldest brother's house. He was there, and when she woke up, she was shocked to see that he was crying. She didn't remember ever seeing him cry like that before. And for once, _he _was crying over _her. _He swore to her that day that he would never, ever leave her again. He begged her to forgive him and swore on everything he had that he would never hurt her like that again.

And she believed him.

But he lied. It wasn't the last time he left. He was gone now, wasn't he? Gone and never coming back. It wasn't like he could just listen to a voice from a Deluminator and Apparate back to her this time. He couldn't come back. He was gone. He broke his promise, and he _left _her. And she couldn't understand why.

She watched her kids in the days following the death and noticed how they seemed a bit closer than before. Rose and Hugo specifically, as they'd both always been able to get along fairly well with Landon. But Rose and Hugo had never exactly been best friends, and they'd fought more growing up than she'd have hoped. Rose, of course, was explosive and volatile in the best of situations, and even Hugo, who was normally quiet and reserved, reacted aggressively toward her. They'd stopped that a bit as they got older, but it still wasn't an overjoyed love-fest by any means. But they were getting along fairly well now- being pointedly considerate of each other, while they stayed away from most everyone else (save Scorpius, who was attached to Rose's hip all hours of the day).

Their friends came around, but they never stayed very long. Their cousins also tried getting close to them, but they were never quite welcomed like they normally would have been. Neither of them knew of Al's part in their father's death, and as far as she was concerned, she hoped to keep it that way for as long as possible. Rose was already on the defense when it came to Al- apparently blaming him for just delivering the news. She hated to think what would happen if the full truth were to come out. And in all honesty, she herself had difficulty looking at her nephew after she found out. It wasn't as if she blamed him, at least not intentionally… but she was bitter. And she couldn't get past the fact that he clearly made so many obvious mistakes. In her head, she knew that he was just a kid, and that he didn't ask to be targeted like that. But it still made it difficult to process, knowing her husband might still be around if it weren't for Al. Still, though, she didn't want to think like that- didn't want that stigma hanging over her, the stigma that made her blame things of that magnitude on her nephew who was really just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But Rose wouldn't see it that way.

Rose would blame him fully. And the damage that was going to come out of this was going to hurt their relationship forever. It broke her heart to think about it, too, because Al had always been one of the few people whom Rose trusted. She didn't have that many people in her life that she was so open with, but Al was her oldest confidante and would always be one of her closest. But she knew it would be over after this. Things would never return to normal no matter what. Because just like her, Rose would always have that knowledge in the back of her head, and she'd never be able to let it go.

The women (or The Aunts, as her children had started calling them over the past couple of days) were fussing in the kitchen, trying to prepare some meal that they'd apparently deluded themselves into thinking would be eaten. She didn't burst their bubble, though, just let them go about their business as they scrambled around making lunch. Her mother-in-law was in there, too, trying to keep herself busy. She wasn't a young woman, and the death of her youngest son was taking its toll.

It was different this time than it was before, though. When Fred died, the family mourned, but they pulled together and protected each other. Mostly, they'd all tried their best to protect Molly and George. They were still doing that- looking out for Molly and making sure that she was alright- but she didn't seem to need them as much this time. She seemed stronger now in her old age than she had back then. It was odd, and when she looked at her mother-in-law, she sort of wondered where all that strength came from.

She herself was the George in this situation, though.

It felt weird to put it like that, but when she thought of it, that was the best comparison she could come up with. George was devastated by Fred's death, and it took him several months to get even halfway back to normalcy. Everyone rushed to his side and fussed over him and made a big deal of taking care of him, but she remembered thinking how he just looked like he wanted to be left alone. And now she could fully sympathize. She wanted them to just leave her alone. She wanted the background noise and the distraction, but she was sure she was going to scream if one more person asked if she was alright.

Of course she wasn't alright. Her husband was dead. Her children were fatherless. And every single plan she'd ever made in her entire life now had a gigantic hole through the middle. It wasn't fair, and she often thought how great it would feel to just go outside and shout and swear and hit things until everything stopped spinning out of control. But she never did it. She _couldn't _do it because she had to be there for her kids. She had to show them that everything _would _be okay and that they _would _make it.

Her own father died just eight months before, and as a fully-grown woman, she'd been floored by how helpless and alone she felt. It was worse than she'd ever imagined, and her heart was broken by it. But she was an adult, she was a grown woman with children of her own. It was normal for her to lose her parents- that's what happened when you got to a certain age. It didn't make it any easier, of course, but still, it was expected.

But her own kids were still _children. _

Rose and Hugo weren't babies, of course, and by legal standards, they were technically adults. But they were still kids. Seventeen and nineteen didn't constitute preparedness for something like this. They were far too young to experience losing their father. And Landon… Landon was _seven- _barely seven at that. He _was _a baby. He was just a little boy who didn't even fully understand the concept of death. He still asked about his grandpa and wondered when he was coming back, despite the fact that he'd had mortality explained to him several times. He was a brilliant kid, but even the brilliant ones can't grasp the finality of death. Not when they're seven years old.

How could he do this? How could he abandon his kids like this? Landon needed him to teach him about Quidditch and to take him to the last Cannons match of the season just like he'd promised two weeks ago. Hugo needed him, god knew _Hugo _needed him, to help him cope with the baby and get through the beginnings of fatherhood. Hugo was far too young for that anyway, and he needed all the help he could get. And Rose… Rose was always his pet. When she would get angry and shout at her daughter for being rude or sassing or for getting into any of the millions of messes she'd got into over her lifetime, he would cover his mouth and try to turn his laugh into a cough. It would drive her mad, of course, and she would then yell at _him _for encouraging the behavior. But it never stopped. Rose was his baby girl, and she remained that way forever. He was always so much closer to her than she was, and sometimes she would find herself fighting jealousy over that fact. There'd been so _many t_imes over the years where all she'd wanted was a calm, close relationship with her daughter. But she'd never really had it. Rose neededhim. She worried most about her, and it terrified her to think of what this could do. Rose _needed _him, and he left her.

He left them all.

She wanted to hate him for it. She wanted to hate him for abandoning the kids and abandoning their life and their dreams. She wanted to hate him for abandoning _her. _But she'd tried to hate him about a billion times in her lifetime and had always come up rather short. It didn't matter, though. She didn't think she could forgive him this, and truthfully, she didn't want to. Anger was a much easier emotion to accept than despair, which was why she refused to let herself fall into the latter.

"It's okay to cry about it."

She'd heard the ridiculous statement about twenty times every day since it happened. Every time someone said it, she wanted to slap them and then retort back smartly that she had no _idea _crying was legal in England. It was easy for all of them to say, wasn't it? Easy, even, for all of them to cry their own tears. They didn't have to take care of three kids who just lost their father. They didn't have to plan a funeral. They didn't have to run a fucking _country._

So yes, it was all well and good for everyone else to cry, but she couldn't.

If she let even two tears fall, they'd never stop. She was sure of it. She would fall apart immediately, and she'd never be able to function again. She couldn't let herself get to that point. She had to stay focused on the anger she felt toward him- the resentment she felt for his leaving her all alone to take care of _everything. _And the hate she felt toward him for breaking his promise and doing the one thing he swore never, ever to do.

And that afternoon when she finally got around to taking a shower, she entered her bedroom to find fresh clothes. She ignored the rumpled bed and resisted the urge to fall into it and sleep for a million years. She went instead to the closet and pulled out a rather boring outfit to wear. She tried to ignore the other side of the closet where his clothes hung, but, of course, it was difficult. And when she turned around to hurry away, she caught an unintentional whiff of them, and for a second, it almost seemed as if he were right there. The jacket he'd bought for Christmas dinner that year hung inches from her face and seemed to taunt her. She didn't think twice before yanking it from its hanger and tearing it apart with strength she wasn't even aware she possessed. She ripped one sleeve off and then the other. And then she put her knee right through the back stitching and took pleasure in tearing it straight down the middle. The sound of the fabric tearing and the threads bursting made her feel inexplicably better. So then she moved onto a shirt and then a pair of trousers. And before she even realized it, half of the closet was empty, and nothing but shreds of fabric littered the floor. The hangers were empty, save a few random shirts that had somehow been spared.

And she felt… empowered.

She realized that she was totally powerless against the situation, and destroying his clothes gave her a sense of control that she craved and needed. It made her feel as though she _weren't _totally helpless and as if there _was _something she could do.

She could destroy the clothes the same way he had destroyed her.

She stood there alone for several moments, staring at the destroyed closet and all the now useless clothes that littered the floor and the shelves. They still smelled like him, still _looked _like him. She knew she should clean them up, but she couldn't force herself.

And then, without another glance, she walked out of the closet and out of the bedroom.

And she left _him _as carelessly as he'd left _her._

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A/N: So another quick update. And I know it's shorter, but it's a different style, and everything isn't meant to be too long, I suppose. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed, and I hope you guys are still enjoying this!


	34. Lily, March 5th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 34

**LILY**

**March 5****th**

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I wonder what it feels like to lose your dad.

Rose and Hugo and Landon… they're sort of like my siblings, even though they're not really. They're the closest things I've got, though (besides my real _actual _brothers, of course). But we were all pretty much raised together- well, not Landon so much because he's a lot younger- but Rose and Hugoand James and Al and me. We were sort of like a family of five kids and four parents growing up. So I guess, in a way, I can sort of understand what they're feeling.

But I can't really.

Because whether or not we were _like _one big family doesn't mean we _were. _And we definitely aren't now. Most of us don't get along too well, and the ones who do never see each other anyway. And it's been a long time since the multiple nights in a row we used to spend at each other's houses. Our parents may still be close, but us kids certainly aren't. And I guess I knew that all along.

But I still wonder what it's like… Awful, I'm sure, but also probably really surreal. I mean, my dad's _the _Harry Potter, you know? The thought of him dying is pretty much inconceivable, so it's not something I've ever really considered. Plus, you don't lose your parents when you're still a kid. I mean, not unless you're like a baby or something and you end up as an orphan like my dad or Teddy. But that's different- they never knew any better. They never knew their parents, so it's not like they've got some giant arsenal of memories of them to pull out and dwell over. Their parents are pretty much just myths in their minds- people they've heard of but no one they're ever going to meet.

But Uncle Ron isn't like that. He isn't just some mystery man that people tell stories about- he's a real person. He's got a job and a life and a family. And he's got three kids who are all pretty fucked up in their own separate ways. So what're they going to do now their dad's dead? It doesn't make any sense, does it?

And it's just terrible, of course. I still can't believe it, and it's been several days now. Every single day, it's the very first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning, and the very last thing I think about at night. I don't think I've even really processed it yet because it all just seems like such a nightmare.

And _everyone's _devastated.

I think my dad is taking it worst of all- even worse than Aunt Hermione (though I suspect she may be faking a lot of her normalness- I haven't seen her cry once…). But Dad's a fucking _wreck. _I've never seen him like this. I've seen him annoyed, and I've seen him stressed. God knows I've seen him _angry… _But I've never seen him like _this. _He really does seem, well, lost. It's almost as if he has no idea where he is half the time, much less what he's supposed to be doing. It's really sad. And scary because I've never seen my dad this upset over anything. Mum's worried to death about him, but it's hard for her, too, because obviously her brother just died. But I think she's trying to do everything in her power to help my dad out, even if means ignoring her own grief temporarily.

Dad cries a _lot. _And that's weird because he's not a crier. I don't remember ever seeing him cry before, not even a few years ago when James got hurt really badly. And it's scary. I mean, you're not supposed to see your dad cry, are you? Dads are supposed to be the strongest people in the world, and they're supposed to be there to protect _you _from bad things. So what do you do when you have to watch all the bad things happening to your dad instead? I wish I knew because it's honestly the worst thing I've ever seen in my life. I don't want him to cry like that because when he cries, it really does mean that there's no hope. It's not a lie. It's the truth.

My uncle is dead.

And then there's Al, of course, who watched the whole thing happen… He says the whole thing is his fault, but I'm sure he's just saying that to try and cope with some of his grief. It must have been the worst thing in the world to watch someone so close to you just die right in front of your face. It'd be difficult to watch that happen to _anyone, _but it'd be a million times worse to see it happen to someone who's practically had a second-hand in _raising _you. Al's got nightmares about it. I know this because I heard him telling Mum about it the other morning. She tried to get him to come home to stay for a few nights, but he refused and claimed to be alright. It was stupid of him to say, of course, since he admitted only a few minutes earlier that he was having nightmares. But no one's ever claimed that Al was the smartest person alive. And so now, Mum's worried over _that _as well, and I can pretty much tell that she's closing in on her breaking point.

James is being… well, _James. _He isn't saying too much, but he's by no means okay. He just keeps to himself and makes a point not to go around people who might be crying or visibly grieving. Really, I haven't seen him too much at all. He hasn't been around a whole lot- I'm guessing because he doesn't do well with tears and death and that whole sort of thing. I don't blame him. If I had somewhere else to go, I'm sure I wouldn't be here, either.

It really is the worst thing in the world.

And to make matters even _worse, _I now want to burst into tears every time I see Hugo. Feeling bad doesn't even come close to describing it. Bad… try feeling like the worst possible human being in the universe… That's closer. It's awful, and I don't know what to do. I can't take it back, and I'm scared to death of how much he'll hate me if I tell the truth. But what other choice do I have?

In a moment of poor judgment, I actually confided my secret in James. It was a couple of nights ago when he couldn't avoid the dinner invitation and ended up cleaning up with me. Al wasn't there, and Mum and Dad disappeared off to my aunt's house. So James and I were cleaning (supposedly- we both suck, even with magic). And then I just told him. I told him what I did, and he actually got _angry._

He told me that I deserved whatever was coming to me, and that I was a spoilt brat who was "going to fall and fall hard." And, as I'm sure you can imagine, I was pretty shocked. James telling me that is sort of the definition of people in glass houses throwing stones… James is not the poster boy for upstanding citizens by _any _means. In fact, everything I know, I pretty much learned from him. So you can guess how I reacted to his holier than thou bullshit.

It wasn't pretty.

We got in a huge argument, and he told me that I did the worst thing anyone could do and that no matter what he'd done, he'd never tried to ruin anyone's life- especially his own _cousin. _And so yeah, I was pretty upset after that. Mostly because I know he's right. As shitty as it is for _James, _of all people, to come at me with crap like that, it doesn't change the fact that I _did _do the worst thing in the world.

And now Hugo hates Amanda. Or maybe he doesn't _hate _her, but he's angry and hurt and hasn't spoken to her in weeks. And she hasn't once tried to defend herself. I don't understand why she doesn't tell him that she didn't send it, but I don't understand a lot of what she does. As close as we once were, I don't know her at all now. Even though we've known each other since we were infants and even though we sleep three beds away from each other, we're pretty much strangers. We've got nothing in common, and the dislike isn't one-sided by any means. I don't _get _her, and I don't understand why she just doesn't _care _what people think. And she sees me as a stuck up bitch, I'm sure, because I don't mind taking advantage of the opportunities life's presented me. And I'm popular and don't mind admitting shallowness. And _she _doesn't get _that._

But she's Hugo's best friend.

She's his best friend, and I haven't seen her once since Uncle Ron died. She hasn't been to any of the family dinners or anything like that, even though her parents have been around every day. But she's stayed away because I'm sure she thinks Hugo doesn't want her around. And maybe he doesn't. I've never seen him as upset as was the day he found out that she supposedly sent the letter to _The Prophet. _I don't think I've ever seen _anyone _look so betrayed by someone. And it was all because of me.

I ruined their friendship, and now she's not here when he needs her the most

So I've got to tell him.

I try for two days to get up the nerves, but I chicken out every time I see him. He always looks miserable, and I can't help but think of how bad he's got it right now. How much worse I already made it, and how it'll be even _worse _if I tell him. But I just feel so bad… And it's getting worse every single time I look at him.

So the night before the funeral, when we're all gathered at the Burrow with pretty much everyone we know, I finally do it. I catch him when he's heading upstairs to supposedly use the loo. I know he's just trying to get away from the crowd, though, because he bypasses the next four floors where all the bathrooms are located and heads instead to the attic bedroom. I almost don't follow him then when I see where he's going. It's his dad's old room, and even if he _is _just trying to hide, I doubt he wants company up there. Especially the type of company who gives him horrible news. But this might be my only opportunity to actually find him alone, so I take it.

By the time I make it up to the top floor, Hugo's already there, and he's sitting down in the desk chair, staring around the room and looking rather lost. He's got the same look on his face that my dad gets a lot lately. He doesn't even notice me there until I knock lightly on the doorframe, and then he looks surprised.

"Hey," he mutters, but he sounds far from enthused.

I take that as my cue to enter, and I step into the small room and also take a look around it. It's not as if I've never been in here before. When we were kids, this was our favorite room to play in because it was so high up and because it was the perfect room to be in when we were daring each other to do stupid things like go visit the ghoul in the attic. It's still the most popular room for hiding out and smoking because it's so far away from the ground floor and because the windows provide pretty decent ventilation. But still, for some reason today, everything looks unfamiliar.

I guess maybe it's because I'm seeing the room for the first time since its old occupant's death. Or maybe because I never _really _thought of it as Uncle Ron's room. The hideous orange walls and the small bed and sparse bedcovers seem really far removed from the man I know whose house is expertly decorated without a hint of that terrible orange hue in any corner. Of course, he didn't decorate his own house, and it strikes me now that if he had, this color would probably be everywhere. It's weird, really, to think that he spent so much time here, but it doesn't look like anything I know of him.

Maybe I don't know him…

"Had to run away?" I ask, and I try to smile, letting Hugo know that I'm teasing.

He just shrugs. "There's too many people. I'm sick of people looking at me like they want to hug me."

I almost laugh, but I don't. I don't think he's being funny on purpose, I think he's being serious. So I just stand there and say nothing because it's weird, and I really haven't got a clue what to say. A few years ago, things would never have been this weird between Hugo and me. A few years ago, Hugo and I were still best friends with an _Us Against the World _mentality. But that changed somewhere, and I'm not even sure I know where. I guess people really do grow up and grow apart, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I never really thought it'd happen to Hugo and me. I always thought that we'd still be Us at the end of it, no matter what.

But it hits me all of a sudden right now that that's never going to happen.

Things are never going to be the same after this. He isn't going to forgive me. He'll probably never even _speak _to me again. He's going to hate me, and any hope of us ever one day growing out of our separate teenage identities and back into Hugo and Lily is gone. But I have to do it. I can't keep doing this, and I owe it to him.

"Hugo," I say quietly, and I glance down at the floor, which is covered in some gross orange rug, "I've got to tell you something…"

He looks over at me, and I can see him from the corner of my eye. He doesn't say anything, but he's sitting there waiting for me to respond.

I really want to throw up. But I don't. I can do this. I take a deep breath and keep my eyes fixed on the carpet.

"Amanda didn't send that to the paper." I don't have to specify what I'm referring to because he already knows.

Silence is the only reply I get. I try really hard to focus on the carpet and count the threads or something mundane like that, but I can't do it for too long, and I look up finally to see that he's just looking at me. His face is pale and tired, and he says nothing for a full minute until finally, "Did you?"

My instinct tells me to lie and to deny any part in it. But I can't do that because there's no way out of it now. I knew from the start that if I was going to tell him Amanda didn't send it that I'd have to tell him who really did.

So I nod, a barely visible dip of my head.

And he still says nothing for several more moments, and then he closes his eyes for a few seconds. When he opens them, he's looking at me like he can't even trust his own ears. And I was wrong- the betrayed look he had for Amanda is nothing compared to the one he's fixing on me right now.

"Fuck…" He mutters it and drops his head into his hands.

"I'm sorry…" I speak up, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes. My voice feels like it's caught in my throat, and I don't know what else to say. I _am _sorry, but I know he doesn't believe me. I wish I had an explanation, but I don't. I don't have anything to say, and maybe that's the worst part of all.

I stand there for a few more minutes, waiting for him to say something, but he says nothing. He just keeps his head in his hands and doesn't look up. And so I leave. I haven't got any explanation, and I know he doesn't want me look at me. I go back downstairs to the hordes of people who are crowding the ground floor of The Burrow and try to blend in.

I've done it. I've told the truth, and now there's not much else I can do.

It isn't until much later when I'm sitting with my Grandmum and trying really hard to comfort her that I actually start crying. I feel really horrible for her, too, and I can't believe she can be strong after having lost two of her children. You aren't supposed to bury your children- that's not what nature intends. So for her to go through this twice, I know it's got to be really difficult for her. But she's holding up pretty well until she randomly breaks down in the kitchen. There are several people around who try to offer her help, and I'm one of them. I hug her and tell her how it's going to be alright. And then I start crying, too, because I've honestly got no idea if it's going to be alright. In fact, I don't think it will…

But then Rose shows up.

And I know right away that Hugo's told her. She's _furious. _Her hair is crazy, and her eyes are blazing. And she storms into the kitchen looking like she wants to kill someone. Of course, that someone is me… Scorpius and Hugo are right behind her, and Scorpius looks a bit worried. Hugo just looks sad. And everyone else just looks confused. I stand up and start to say something, but I don't get the chance.

I feel the slap before I even see it coming.

She's hit me as hard as she can, and my cheek instantly feels like it's on fire. In fact, she's hit me _so _hard that I literally don't see straight for a second. I hear the shocked gasps of the family and friends who're in the room, but I don't have time to process them because the very next second, she shoves me so hard that I fall into the counter. Pain instantly shoots through my back, too, and for a second, I really think she's going to hurt me. Rose is taller than me by at least four or five inches, and she's a lot meaner than me. She's got a temper like no one's business, and she absolutely _is _terrifying when she wants to be.

And apparently now is one of those times.

"You fucking _bitch!"_ she screams so loud that I'm sure people in Australia can hear her. And then, as if she hasn't inflicted enough physical punishment on me, she shoves me once more.

I'm crying now, even more than I was before. It's mostly because I'm upset but also because she really hurt me, and I have a very low tolerance for pain. I don't even try to say anything. There's no point. Scorpius reaches for her arm, but she shrugs him away and blocks me from moving.

"You don't get to stand there and cry over my father when you tried to ruin my brother's life!" she shrieks, and I actually wince at how loud she is.

Grandmum tries to step in. "_Rose!_" she admonishes quickly. "Calm down."

But, of course, Rose isn't having it. She whips her head around and tells the entire crowd of people exactly what I did. "_She _told the papers about Hugo and the baby!" People gasp again, and I look down so that I don't have to see their faces. "And then she blamed it on Amanda!"

"Rose…" Aunt Hermione shows up from somewhere and speaks very quietly and very calmly. But Rose ignores her, as she often does.

"How could you _do _that?!" she asks me hysterically. "You're supposed to be our _family!"_

I don't look at her, just keep my eyes fixed on the floor and wish very hard that I had my wand on me so that I could Disapparate. I'm crying a lot now, but I still can't say anything because there's nothing to say. She's telling the truth. I want to look over at Hugo, but I sure as hell can't do that. Not after the way he looked at me when I told him earlier…

Rose just goes right on, and I can tell without even looking at her that she's raged herself into a fit of tears. "You're such a _bitch!"_

"Okay, stop." This time it's _my _mum who steps in, and I don't have to look up to know that she's furious. But she doesn't yell at me. Instead, _she _addresses Rose, too. "Rose, that's enough."

But Rose is far past the point of calming down now. "No!" she shouts furiously. "I'm sick of everyone acting like she's a fucking _baby! _She's almost eighteen years old!" And then she looks back at me and continues laying into me. "You are a piece of _shit! _I can't even believe people like you exist! That was the lowest thing you've ever done, and trust me, that's saying a _lot!"_

"Rose."

It's her mum again, and this time she speaks a little more loudly. But she doesn't sound angry at all. She sounds sad and exhausted, and she's the first person Rose doesn't shrug off. And when she puts a hand on her arm and pulls her back, Rose actually steps away. And I can finally breathe. I look up just enough to see that Rose is really honestly upset, and that she's crying heavily now. And her mum is hugging her and letting her cry. She doesn't say a word, just cradles her head and smooths her hair as Rose dips her head and buries her face in her neck.

And she just lets her cry.

It's almost like neither of them even realize other people are around because Rose is completely inconsolable and her mum is ignoring everyone else. She seems completely out of it, as she has for several days now. My own mother looks angry and gives me a little glare that lets me know I'm definitely in for it. Everyone else just stands around awkwardly, and I really, _really _want to disappear…

Rose is hysterical, and she's crying those gigantic sobs that cause your whole body to shake. Finally, Aunt Hermione, puts her hands on either side of her head and lifts it. "Let's go home," she says quietly. And Rose sniffs loudly and nods. She lets her mum walk her out of the kitchen and takes Scorpius's hand on the way out.

"Hugo-" I speak up before I even realize it. He looks over at me for half a second. I don't say anything. I don't know _what _to say. So I just stand there helplessly. He just rolls his eyes and shakes his head dismissively before following his mother and sister out of the room.

And then I'm all alone in the middle of a million people. And every single one of them is looking at me in disbelief and shock. And my mother looks like she wants to slap me, too. She may as well… I've still got one good cheek. And Neville and Hannah are both looking at me like I've ruined their daughter's life, which I guess has pretty much been my mission in life for the past several years. Hell, I wish Amanda was here. That way she could just finish me off and be done with it.

But she isn't here. She isn't here because I ruined everything between her and Hugo, and she doesn't even feel welcome anymore. I've ruined everything. James was right… I deserve everything I'm going to get…

"Mum…" I say quietly, looking up at her almost pleadingly, wanting just _one _person on my side. But the glare she gives me lets me know I'm shit out of luck.

"Shut up, Lily," she says sharply. "Let's go."

I can't think of anything I'd like to do _less _than go home with her right now, but what choice have I got? And anyway, it's not as if I don't deserve it. I want to throw up. I want to go to sleep. I want to sit down.

I want to go back in time…

And I can't do any of it because there are no do-overs. When you do something as awful as I've done, you've got to deal with the consequences, don't you?

Still, I just wish _one _person would be on my side…

But I know they won't. Because the whole world hates me. And no one will ever be on my side again.

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A/N: So not too long of a break- not next day, but not too long! Umm…. Thanks for reading, of course. I know a lot of you are going to be happy Lily got her comeuppance. Next chapter is the funeral. I'll try to get it out quickly!


	35. March 6th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 35

**MARCH 6****th**

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It's raining on Wednesday morning, and no one is surprised.

The house starts filling up almost before the sun rises. Hermione doesn't care, of course, because she hasn't been to sleep. She hasn't slept in nearly a week now, save a few hours here and there that overtake her against her own will, usually when she's putting her son to bed. But when people start crowding her kitchen and fussing about for breakfast, she suddenly feels very tired.

Perhaps it's her body tricking her into thinking that if she goes to sleep, she can put off the inevitable just a bit longer. She doesn't let herself be tricked, though, because she knows that isn't true. Even if she were to lie down in the middle of her kitchen floor and kip, the funeral would still happen. And she has far too much to do before then to be napping. So she ignores the urge and busies herself the best that she can.

Rose hides out in her bedroom all morning and does nothing besides listen to the rain hit against her window. When one of her aunts comes up to ask her if she wants breakfast, she sends Scorpius to answer the door. He politely declines for them both and then crawls back into bed behind her. He wraps his arms around her and doesn't say anything.

Hugo spends the morning smoking a freshly rolled joint and not even trying to hide the smell. He can't really make himself care too much if he gets caught, and anyway, he knows no one is going to say anything to him even if he does. Everyone is already worried to death about him, thinking he's a lot more fragile than he really is. And after the night before, they're _really _going to be worried. After all, it isn't every day that your cousin blatantly attempts to ruin your life and then admits it. So now that everyone knows, they're all going to baby him, and no one's going to yell at him for smoking.

The Potters are the last to arrive, surprisingly, as they spend their whole morning at home. Ginny tries very hard not to break down completely as she keeps herself busy making sure her kids and her husband are all ready for the approaching day. Al shows up on time, but James doesn't roll into his parents' sitting room until half ten. He looks almost as if he's just woke up, but Ginny says nothing because at least he's dressed decently. She has a harder time with Lily who, at first, says she's not going to the funeral. She won't come out of her room and lies in her bed crying all morning. She says that no one wants her there and that everyone'll be happier if she stays away. Ginny finally loses her patience and yells at her, telling her to stop trying to make herself into a victim and get dressed.

She does.

Harry hears the argument between his wife and his daughter and isn't sure he wants to go, either. Of course, his reasons are much different from Lily's, who is simply trying to do what she does best and make everything about her. He has no patience for her at the moment and is actually very glad that he wasn't around the night before when Rose apparently tried to kill Lily because he would have had difficulty finding reason to stop her. He stayed home, though, because he was too exhausted to try and deal with anymore, so he didn't hear of his daughter's actions until later that night when Ginny told him. And of course, he hasn't seen Hermione since. He doesn't know what he's going to say to her when he because there really aren't enough words to apologize for Lily's behavior. And he is embarrassed and horrified that she could really do something that despicable.

And so he can't bring himself to say anything at all to Lily when she finally comes downstairs in a black skirt and a dark gray sweater. He knows that anything he says will be out of anger, and he doesn't trust himself enough at the moment to let any of that anger surface. So he says nothing. He just sits quietly as Ginny runs around and tries to take care of some last minute details. He should help her, he knows, but he isn't even sure he's going to be able to stand up.

So he does nothing.

When they arrive at the house, though, he forces himself to function. He can tell from the first second he sees Hermione that she is definitely not alright. It doesn't matter that she isn't curled up in a little ball sobbing or lying in her bed completely catatonic, she isn't even _close _to being okay. She is whiter than he's ever seen her, and the lack of sleep is really showing on her face. She literally looks like she's going to fall over at any second. And she's pretty much completely nonresponsive to all the commotion around her.

It isn't that she doesn't notice the twenty or so people who are crowded into her house, she just has nothing to say to any of them. She isn't ungrateful for their help, but she honestly doesn't care. She doesn't _care _if breakfast is made or if the dishes or done or anything about any of it. She makes sure Landon eats something and then spends the next half hour getting them both ready for the day. Landon's hair won't lie down properly, but she isn't bothered by it. She simply lets it go, knowing it's going to be soaked by the rain soon anyway. Her own hair is too much for her to deal with, though, so she pulls it up into a bun and pins it there. She puts on her dress and gets Landon into a button-up and a pair of nice trousers.

He's old enough to dress himself, but he doesn't say this as she lays out his clothes for him. He is only seven, but he understands that this is something his mother _needs _to do. He's watched her for the past few days and knows that she's just trying to keep herself busy. She thinks he doesn't really understand, but he knows that his dad is dead. He knows that they're going to bury him today and that he's never coming back. He knows all of that, he just doesn't understand _why._

Dora comes up to his room after his mum goes back downstairs to the grownups, and she sits on his floor and colors with his crayons. He doesn't tell her to go away or to stop touching his things like he normally would. He just watches her instead as she draws big pink loops on a piece of paper and then colors them in with purple. Her hair matches the drawing, and when she switches crayons, her hair follows suit shortly. She doesn't seem to realize that everyone downstairs is crying and upset as she lies on her belly and kicks her feet back and forth from under her dress. He imagines that if her mum comes up and sees her, she'll be in big trouble for lying on the floor and wrinkling up her dress.

"Did your dad really die?" she asks suddenly, and he seems to snap out of a daze when she speaks. He looks over at her and sees that she's stopped coloring and is instead pushing herself into a sitting position. He glances at her dress and sees that it's now full of wrinkles, just like he imagined.

He just nods in response to her question. Saying it out loud feels weird, and he doesn't like doing it. Dora frowns for a second and throws her now purple hair over her shoulder.

"My daddy left, too." She says it matter-of-factly, and he wonders what she's on about.

He knows that Victoire and Teddy aren't living together now, but he hasn't found the time to be too fussed about it. He figures she wants him to ask, though, so he does. "Why?"

But Dora shrugs. "I guess because he doesn't love us."

"That's not true." He says it immediately without even thinking. He isn't sure why he blurts it out the way he does, but he Dora just nods earnestly instead.

"Yes, it is," she insists. "You don't leave someone if you really love them."

Dora's only four years old. She doesn't know what she's talking about. She's just a stupid baby anyway, and he doesn't even know why he's listening to her. He drops down to the floor and starts grabbing the crayons up and shoving them back into their box. She speaks again when he grabs the pink one out of her hand.

"He and my mum fight all the time. They don't love each other anymore, so he left."

"Shut up!" he snaps. Her words seem to slap him right in the face, and he hates her for a second. He knows she's just being stupid and that she has no idea what she's talking about, but he can't help but feel a sting when she says that.

For as long as he can remember, his parents have fought. They argue over everything. Every single day. It's been so normal his whole like that he doesn't even think anything of it. But what if Dora knows what she's talking about for once? What if his dad was sick of fighting all the time and left because he didn't love them anymore?

Dora stares at him with wide blue eyes, and then she pushes aside her paper and stands up. She doesn't say anything as she leaves his room, and he doesn't try to stop her. He doesn't follow her, either. He doesn't want to go downstairs and see all the adults and see his mother because he doesn't want to think about what Dora said.

Scorpius isn't sure how he's supposed to handle today. It took forever to get Rose calmed down last night after she went into a rage at Lily. He still can't believe Lily did that, and he's sort of worried about how everyone's going to react to her at the funeral. He told Rose to forget about her and not to waste any time worrying over her. He told her all the things you're supposed to say like, _"She isn't worth it," _and, _"It's all on her. She'll have to deal with it." _But he isn't sure how if she listened to even a word of it.

She's in the shower now, where she's been for a really long time. He's surprised there's enough hot water in this house to handle that sort of shower. He's already dressed and is just sitting on her bed waiting for her to come out. Honestly, he's terrified, and he has no idea what the rest of the day's going to hold. It'll be the worst day of Rose's life, and he doesn't know how to handle that. So far, he's just been there for her and let her cry and talk and whatever else she needs, but something about today scares him. The finality maybe, he isn't sure.

He doesn't notice Landon coming in, but he looks up just as Landon stops a few feet away from him. He looks at him questioningly, and Landon just says, "Where's Rose?"

"She's in the shower."

"I need to talk to her." Landon looks scared and confused, and Scorpius realizes for the first time that he hasn't really seen Landon cry too much. Landon's honestly seemed okay through most of this, and he's put a real brake on his natural brattiness. He's a smart kid, so it's not too surprising that he's figured out how serious the situation is and how he doesn't need to put even more stress into it.

"I'm sure she'll be out in a few minutes," Scorpius tells him this, though he's beginning to wonder. Landon doesn't say anything back, he just stands there and looks like he's trying really, really hard not to cry. He's got that steeled look of concentration on his face of a person who is putting all their effort into showing no emotion. "You okay?" he asks, trying not to sound too forward or aggressive. He hasn't really had too many one-on-one conversations with Landon, and he's trying to make it less weird than it really is.

Landon is quiet. Scorpius can tell he doesn't want to say whatever's on his mind, but a few seconds later, he doesn't seem to be able to help it. "Did my dad die because he doesn't love us?" He blurts it out quickly and almost immediately looks like he wants to shove the words back into his mouth.

And Scorpius is shocked. He isn't sure what to say because he definitely wasn't expecting _that _question. "Of course not," he says, shaking his head. "Who said that?"

"Dora said her dad didn't love them, and he left because he and her mum fought too much." As Landon speaks, it's obvious that he's hearing how ridiculous the words are once they're verbalized, but he goes on nonetheless. "And _my _mum and dad always fight… _fought," _he corrects himself pointedly, "all the time."

Scorpius just shakes his head. He's at a loss for words because he certainly wasn't expecting to be accosted by Rose's youngest brother in this way. He thinks of how sad it is that this little boy has lost his father and is now so confused.

"Her dad didn't leave the same way yours did," he tries to explain. He's heard a bit about Teddy and Victoire's split, but he doesn't know too much about it. "And he still loves them," he clarifies, guessing, really, because he honestly knows very little about the situation. "But they just don't get along anymore, so he had to move. But he's still around, and I bet Dora still sees him all the time."

"But I won't see my dad." It's a statement, not a question. Landon looks at him questioningly anyway, and he shakes his head.

"No," he says quietly.

"Then he must _really _not love us." Landon mumbles the words as he crawls onto the bed and sits down. Scorpius watches him as he settles in beside him and feels horrible for not being able to verbalize himself sufficiently. Landon is small for his age, and at the moment, he looks very young. His hair is sticking up in one spot, and his face is pale and scared.

"He did _not _die because he didn't love you," Scorpius says firmly. "He didn't _mean _to leave. It wasn't his fault."

"If he and Mum didn't fight so much…"

"That's got nothing to do with it. Your parents loved each other." And it's the truth. As little as he knew about Teddy and Victoire, he _did _know they were nothing like Landon's parent who were very happy and very much in love. They bickered yes but were rarely serious. He'd learned years ago when he first started spending time with Rose that that was simply the way they communicated. It was normal, she assured him, and she didn't even ever flinch when one of them started shouting or going off. His own parents weren't like that- if they fought, it was serious, they weren't able to bicker playfully.

Landon seems to believe him but still says nothing. He studies the duvet and picks at a loose string. "You don't leave people when you love them," he says quietly, not quite meeting his eye. He sounds like he's repeating a lesson learned from somewhere else.

"Sometimes you can't help it."

Landon is quiet again for a little while, and then he finally looks up. He's got blue eyes, just like his dad and his brother. Rose is the only one with their mum's eyes. But he's got a wicked mess of curls that are floppy and quite out of control. He studies Scorpius for a second and then says, "Do you love my sister?"

He's caught off guard by the question. It sort of comes out of nowhere, but he answers it nonetheless. "Yeah. I do."

"You left her." Landon says it so matter-of-factly that Scorpius actually winces a bit. "You made her cry. A lot."

There's nothing to say because it's the truth. So he looks down and gives a tiny little nod. "I know."

"Why'd you do that? If you love her, why would you want her to cry?"

He wishes that he could say that he _didn't _want her to cry, but the truth is, he _did. _He was hurting, and he wanted her to hurt. He wishes he could take it all back now, but he can't. So in answer to her little brother's question, he just shrugs. "Stupid, I guess."

There's silence again. And Landon keeps tugging at the loose thread on the duvet. If Rose saw him, she'd probably yell at him. Scorpius says nothing. Finally, though, Landon has another question, and he looks up thoughtfully.

"Does she love you back?"

"I hope so."

"You think she does?"

And Scorpius nods. "Yeah, I do." And then, in a moment of rare insecurity, he catches the younger boy's eye. "Do _you_ think she does?"

Landon ponders the question for a few seconds, and then chews on his lower lip. "Yeah," he finally answers. "I don't think she'd cry that much if she didn't."

The words sting, and Scorpius knows it's his own fault. He feels awful, but he can't undo it. But he's here now, and that matters. He's here when she needs him, and he doesn't plan on going away ever again.

And then, as if he's reading his mind, Landon speaks up. "You can marry her if you want. I don't think she'd mind."

Marry her. That's what started the whole mess in the first place. Scorpius doesn't say this, of course, because Landon wouldn't understand anyway. He just nods and gives him a grateful little smile for his pseudo-permission. "Thanks."

"Just don't make her cry anymore, okay?"

Landon and Rose. Rose would absolutely go to the ends of the earth for that kid. She's crazy about him, loves him fiercely. Apparently it's two-sided because Landon's just as protective of her as she is of him. Scorpius smiles at him and nods. "Okay."

And then Rose shows back up. She's been listening for a little while now, standing just outside her bedroom door in the hallway. She's heard pretty much the entire conversation, but she didn't want to interrupt. Landon gets up to leave, and she catches him on the way out and grabs him from behind. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and kisses him tightly on the cheek. Then she raises back up and prods him out of her room. "Go tell Mum we're ready, okay?"

He nods and disappears, and she goes over to where Scorpius is still sitting on her bed. She sits down beside him and slides both arms around his waist. He turns his head to look at her, and when he does, she leans in and kisses him slowly. They haven't spent much time doing things like kissing since he's arrived, and they haven't talked too much about _them. _The quiet understanding between both of them has been enough, but now she feels the need to verbalize it.

When she pulls back from the kiss, she raises one hand and brushes some hair away from his forehead. "I _do _love you," she says earnestly. He smiles back at her, one of those gentle, shy smiles that he's so good at it. "And Landon's right," she adds, dropping her head onto his shoulder and leaning into him. "You can marry me if you want."

She drops the last sentence quietly, not knowing how he's going to react. She doesn't know if the proposal still stands, but she doesn't ask. He doesn't say anything back at first, and then she feels him nod as his head bumps against the top of hers. "Someday," he says seriously.

And she nods as well. "Someday."

The funeral gets crowded quickly. It's held in one of the large social rooms of the Ministry. James isn't sure if this is protocol for Ministry officials or what's really normal at all. He's honestly only been to one funeral his whole life, and that was Mr. Granger's last year. Of course, it was at a Muggle funeral home and quite different from the setup they had going at the Ministry. He doesn't know what "normal" Wizarding funerals are like because he doesn't spend time thinking about them. He doesn't think about things like life and death and mortality and all of that. When you die, you die. Everyone else's lives go on. That's nature. That's life.

He keeps to himself mostly, finding a place out of the way to sit down and just observe. He isn't normally as subdued as he is today, but today isn't a normal day by any means. The casket that sits at the front of the room looks ominous and frightening to him, and he certainly isn't a person who admits to be frightened often. Still, there's something about it that makes him certain he will not approach it no matter what. He doesn't want to look down and see his uncle- his _godfather- _lying there all stiff and pale and _dead. _

Fred shows up a bit later and slides into the seat beside him. They talk about everything besides the funeral. They talk about Fred's newest conquest- a girl named Alayna who works at the bookstore next to his shop. They talk about Quidditch and what chances England's got this year. And they talk about Lily and how she's a horrible little bitch. Fred's heard the story in detail already, as good news has a tendency to travel fast in their family.

James can't believe her. He's honestly _embarrassed. _It's not as if he didn't know Lily was a spoilt brat, and it's not like he didn't know she had a vindictive side to her. But he didn't expect her to just be _evil. _It shocks him really, and he can't believe her. He can't believe she'd do it to _anybody, _but especially to Hugo. Out of all their cousins, Hugo is the nicest one. Hugo has never really done anything to anyone, and he certainly doesn't deserve that kind of betrayal. Not to mention, of course, that Lily and Hugo used to be best friends.

It doesn't make any sense.

Hugo hates this already. He feels claustrophobic despite the fact that they're in a gigantic open room. There're too many people here, and he doesn't recognize half of them. They all seem to know him, though, and it takes him about three minutes to get absolutely _sick _of hugs. People he's never met before come up and hug him and tell him how sorry they are and how things will get easier eventually. He wants to ask them how they know this, but he doesn't. He isn't a rude person, and he can't bring himself to change that, even now.

Every member of his family that he's ever heard of is here. There are plenty of family members he _hasn't _heard of as well, and they're all here, too. He takes in all the commotion and all the people and notices how they all react. His grandmum has finally reached her breaking point, and she's sitting down with Uncle Bill who is hugging her and letting her cry. Aunt Fleur stands by quietly and holds Maddie, swaying from side to side slowly as the baby lays her head down and seems to drift off to sleep. Victoire and Teddy are both there, and they're standing together but not speaking. Teddy comes up to him at one point and tells him to call him if he needs anything, and he's grateful for it. Teddy's one of the few people who isn't fawning over him and seems to understand that he mostly just wants to be left alone.

His other aunts and uncles are there, too, of course, and most of them are visibly upset. His cousins are sad, too, though some of them come up and try to talk to him like everything's normal. He appreciates that, and he's glad to be distracted by Louis's ramblings about everything that's been going on in Gryffindor in the days since he's been gone. The gossip is strangely normal, and he likes the distraction. But neither James, Al, nor Lily come up to speak to him. He is glad actually because he thinks he might punch Lily in the face if she tried to come up and hug him. He wouldn't, of course, but he'd be tempted. James and Al, he assumes, are embarrassed and feel awkward toward him now. He doesn't really blame them, nor is he too bothered by their avoidance.

Ginny _does _speak to him, though, and she smooths out some of his hair in a very fussy aunt sort of way as she tells him how everything's going to be alright. She says it, and then she immediately bursts into tears. She doesn't know if everything's going to be alright. Everything in the world seems fucked up at the moment, and how is she supposed to know if it's ever going to change? She looks at her nephews and her niece, and all she can think about is how they're never going to see their father again.

She feels especially awful for Hugo, considering everything her daughter's put him through. She is horrified by Ginny and can't even vocalize her apology. There's nothing to say, and she doesn't want to bring it up today anyway. They will deal with it later, and maybe then Hugo can forgive them. She says them because whether or not she likes to admit it, Lily is her daughter and she is partly responsible for her children's actions. She doesn't know how it's ever going to be fixed, but she tries not to think of it.

She looks down at her brother's body only once, and then she can't take it anymore. She doesn't know how it's possible. Ron was always the one she was closest to when they were kids, even though he was also the one she most argued with. They didn't lose their closeness as adults, either, and she feels helpless and confused as the reality of the situation hits her. He's really gone. She cries a lot, she can't help herself. And then she feels awful when Rose comes up and comforts _her._

Rose is dealing better than she thought she would. There are so many people to talk to that she doesn't really have time to dwell on the situation and what's actually happening. It seems as if every person she's ever met in her entire life is here, and she's positive that she actually sees every single member of her Hogwarts class- or at least the vast majority of them. Lola and Maribel show up, too, as well as a few other people from the Healer Academy. She isn't surprised that more don't show because she hasn't made much of an effort to meet too many people there. She appreciates all her friends' concern, though, and she even finds herself laughing and joking with a few of them. It's easier than she thought it would be, but that's probably because she isn't really thinking about it.

All her old roommates are there, and she spends the easiest half hour of the day catching up with them. She hasn't seen Susie or Meghan in over a year, and Elisabeth keeps an arm 'round her waist protectively as she fills her in on some mindless celebrity gossip. She realizes how much she misses all of them and how much easier her life was at Hogwarts. She was so much happier then, and she finds herself wishing that she could go back. She knows she can't, of course, but she hugs all her old friends tightly and thanks them for coming.

It isn't until she spies Elisabeth across the room talking in low voices to Al that she realizes what's going on. What's probably _been _going on for ages. Elisabeth keeps a hand placed at the small of his back, and when he dips his head to whisper something to her, she reaches up and pushes some hair out of his face. Rose doesn't know what to think or feel at the sight, but betrayal is the emotion that first pops into her head. How could they hide that from her? They're supposed to be her best friends. She can't believe they would keep something like that a secret, especially Al who has told her everything his entire life.

She wonders what else he's keeping from her.

Hermione feels a bit of déjà vu as she stands around and shakes people's hands, hugs them, and thanks them for coming. She just did the same thing less than a year ago at her dad's funeral. And now here she is again, doing it at her husband's. It doesn't feel real, and she wonders if it's possible that this is all just one gigantic nightmare. She has a feeling, though, that if she were asleep, she wouldn't be as tired as she is. She wants to lie down so badly that she has difficulty even concentrating on what people are saying to her.

They're all deeply sorry, of course, and the seemingly unending line of people tires her even more. Finally, she excuses herself from the sympathy and the well-wishes and extracts herself long enough to step closer to the casket. She looked when she first arrived, before the crowds started showing up, just to make sure everything was alright. She didn't look for long, though, because it made her feel dizzy.

She feels dizzy now as she looks down at the body. It _looks _like Ron, but she can't make herself think of it like that. She isn't a religious person, and she never has been. She wasn't raised in church, and she's pretty sure most churches wouldn't want her anyway- what with the whole being a witch thing. Still, though, she wants terribly, _needs, _to believe that he is out there somewhere and that the body in front of her is just a shell. She can't bear to think that this is it. That he's dead, and that this body is all that's left. She wishes suddenly that she had some sort of faith, but she can't create a sudden religious attachment based solely out of need.

And she doesn't have the strength to try anyway.

Her fingers itch to touch him. She wants to smooth out his shirt and move his hair to its more natural position. But she doesn't. She doesn't want to feel how cold he is, and how stiff and dead his body is. She can see it, but if she tries really hard, she can convince herself that he just looks like he's sleeping peacefully.

It's not real. It can't be. This can't actually be happening… She can't make herself believe that she's actually standing over her husband's dead body at his funeral. She wills herself to wake up, wills _him _to wake up. She doesn't notice that she's gripping the edge of the casket until her fingers actually start burning. She looks at them and sees that her knuckles are white. She's fairly certain, though, that if she lets go, she'll pass out.

Harry sees her standing there, and he finally forces himself to approach her. He's kept himself busy up until now, and he's mostly avoided Hermione. She's had a million people around her the whole time, and he hasn't wanted to bother her. Not to mention, of course, that he still isn't sure she even wants to speak to him after what Lily did to Hugo. He goes to her anyway and stands beside her.

He doesn't say anything for awhile, just stands there beside her and looks down at Ron. He feels sick to his stomach, and he forces himself not to cry. He has cried more in the past few days than he has in his whole life. But he's not going to let himself right now because Hermione doesn't need other people's tears. He knows that.

"Look at his hair." Her voice sounds weird and distant when she speaks, and he glances over at her before looking back down. "It's not right."

He hasn't noticed, but when he pays attention, he sees that she's right. Ron's hair has never been that neat in his entire life. Whoever has prepared the body has taken careful care to make sure it's perfect and well-managed, and it looks weird and off on him.

He looks back over at Hermione who suddenly looks very ill. Her skin has gone from pale to a strange grayish tint. He wonders if she's going to be ill. She sort of looks like she might faint.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, thinking of how stupid the question sounds when he says it out loud.

She nods and grips the edge of the casket even more tightly. But a second later, she stops and shakes her head. Just one shake. It tells him everything he needs to know.

"Let's go sit," he tells her, and he reaches over to gently remove her hand from its resting space. She doesn't fight him, but he can't help notice how she feels like a complete dead weight in his arms as he turns her around. She seems dazed, too, and he isn't entirely positive she's even aware of where she is.

He starts to lead her over to some empty seats, but they get interrupted by more visitors. He's surprised to see that Hermione is in fact aware of her surroundings and that she's actually able to function well enough to speak coherently to the people who come up to them and start offering their sympathies. She smiles politely and hugs everyone, thanking them for their support and for coming. It amazes him.

He realizes then that she is perfectly capable of functioning when she's distracted. She hasn't stopped moving since the minute he told her the news, and he has a feeling that she knows when she does, she's going to lose it completely. He can't help but admire her strength, though, because she's far better off than he is. He's been a complete wreck and wants nothing more at the moment than to sit down and cry some more.

He sees Draco and Astoria when they enter, but he says nothing. Two Ministry workers are chatting hurriedly in his ear, and he tries to focus on what they're saying as Hermione nods and interjects little generic comments every so often. The Malfoys go over to Rose and Scorpius, and Harry watches as Rose breaks into tears when Astoria hugs her. Rose has been up and down all day, and he's kept a careful eye on her to make sure she's alright. She goes from laughing to crying quickly, but so far, she's done as well as can be expected.

Eventually, they make their way over to where Harry and Hermione are still standing. There are a few people in front of them, and Harry knows the second Hermione notices them. She stiffens a little bit, but she carries right on with the forced politeness to the couple who're currently offering their sympathy. And when it's the Malfoys' turn, Harry is surprised to see that she plasters on a fake smile.

Astoria does all the talking, of course, and she tells them how sorry they are for their loss. "Rose is very important to us," she even says at one point, laying it on so thick that even Harry's surprised. Hermione continues to smile and nods every once in awhile as Astoria chatters on. Malfoy stands by and says nothing, looking extremely uncomfortable and really as though he'd rather be anywhere else in the entire world. Harry can't actually blame him, which is saying a lot because he's _always _been able to blame him.

And then finally, Astoria shuts up and ends her sentiments with a hug for each of them. Harry's actually hugging her when Malfoy finally speaks. His voice sounds strained and forced, and his face is completely sullen when he offers a very simple, "I'm… sorry," to Hermione.

And Hermione just stares at him blankly for a moment, and then she shakes her head. "I can't do this," she announces out of nowhere, and then she just turns away and walks straight out of the room, completely ignoring several people who attempt to speak to her on the way out.

Harry watches as she leaves, and slow panic starts to set in. He turns back to Malfoy and mutters a very half-hearted, "Thanks," before following her out of the room. She's well ahead of him, though, so he has to walk quickly in order to keep up. He finally catches her as she rounds the corner toward the lifts. The Ministry's closed for the funeral, and the corridor is completely empty. She starts buzzing for the lifts, but he catches her hand right as she does.

"I can't do it," she announces again, spinning around to look at him. Her eyes are wide and somewhat hysterical. "I'm done. I'm _done, _Harry," she says flatly. "Just please, I don't know, tell them I'm sick or something… I can't do this anymore."

"Hermione, just calm down, okay?" he says gently, but she rolls her eyes and laughs a loud, humorless laugh.

"Calm down?! Are you serious? I'm so _sick _of this! I'm so sick of talking to people and trying to act like I give a shit!" Some of her hair is falling out of its bun, and she pushes it away from her face roughly. "They don't care! Draco Malfoy doesn't fucking _care, _Harry!"

"I know, I know," he says quietly, trying to appease her, even though in all honesty, he thinks that maybe Draco Malfoy actually _does _care. In all the years he's known him, he's never once seen him look so serious about anything.

"And I'm just _tired," _she carries right on, barely pausing for a breath. "I don't want to be here!"

"Hermione-" He cuts himself off because he has no idea what to say. She is closing in on hysterics, and he knows she's about to do something extremely drastic.

"What's the point anyway?" she asks, rolling her eyes again and throwing her hands up into the air. "This is it, isn't it?!"

"Hermione-" He tries again, but she doesn't let him get any further.

"No! Don't you see what's happening?!" she asks angrily. Her eyes are blazing now, and she's actually trembling. "It's over! This is it!" She actually lets out of a growl of frustration and falls back against the wall heavily. She opens and closes her fists several times and then finally slams them backwards into the stone behind her. "That fucking bastard _left _me!"

He watches in stunned silence as she squeezes her eyes shut and then opens them. She raises both of her hands to her head and cradles it as she glares furiously at the floor, her breathing loud and labored. He wonders briefly if she's got her wand on her and thinks that it could be potentially very dangerous for one or both of them if she does. She doesn't seem to be in that frame of mind, though, and he can tell she's struggling to get herself under control as she breathes loudly and shakes with unbridled emotion.

After what seems like a million years, he attempts once more to speak to her. "Hermione, it's okay," he says so quietly that he barely even hears himself.

Her eyes snap up to him, and he expects her to start raging against him. But she doesn't. The glare in her eyes quickly turns to one of despair, and he watches stunned as she _finally _tears up. To the best of his knowledge, no one has seen her cry a single tear the entire time, but now her eyes flood with tears. Her face twists up miserably, and he knows she wants nothing less than to cry. She's past the point of no return, though, and when she speaks again, her voice comes out strained and broken.

"Why did he do this…"

The tears finally spill over, and she starts crying heavily. She's still trembling, and she buries her face in her hands tightly. He watches as she unconsciously starts sliding down the wall to the ground, and he grabs her under the arms and catches her before she hits the ground. He lifts her back to a full standing position and draws her forward. She falls against him effortlessly and continues to cry into her hands as her head falls forward onto his shoulder. She's _sobbing _now. Loudly. Her entire body has gone from trembling to fully shaking, and he has to actually clasp his arms around her waist just to make sure she stays on her feet. He holds her like that for he has no idea how long, and then suddenly she removes her head from her hands and instead wraps both of her arms around his neck so tightly that he's honestly afraid of not being able to breathe. She pushes her face into the corner of his neck, though, and continues to sob hysterically for ages.

"Why?" she asks desperately, and her voice is so broken, he can barely understand it. "Why did he _do _this?"

"It wasn't his fault…" Harry feels the words get caught in his throat, and he forces his own tears back, knowing that he's in serious danger of breaking down as well.

She just shakes her head and continues to sob into his shoulder. "I don't understand…"

He doesn't understand, either. He can't make sense of any of it, and he doesn't see the point in trying. It's the most unfair thing that's ever happened, and he doesn't want to believe any of it's happening. He hasn't got any other choice, though, because, like Hermione said, this is it.

It's over.

"Please don't make me go back in there," she begs desperately, and he can literally feel the sobs wracking through her body. "I don't want to!"

He doesn't, either, but he knows well enough to know that they've got no choice. They _have _to go back. They have to finish it. He takes a few deep breathes to calm himself and then leans back just slightly so that she has to lift her head. She looks at him so helplessly that he almost can't stand it.

"You have to, Hermione," he says quietly.

But she shakes her head, and her lip trembles as tears continue to streak down her face as rapidly as any tears have ever fallen. "I can't do it," she says helplessly, her voice shaking with her body. "I _can't…"_

"Yes, you can." He moves his hands up to neck and rests them there, holding her head up. He looks her in the eye intently and knows more with each passing second that he's got to be the strong one right now. "You can do it," he tells her earnestly. "You can do _anything, _you've always been able to do anything."

"I can't do _this_," she mutters, her eyes dropping to the floor momentarily.

"Yes, you can," he tells her again.

"I'm not strong enough…"

"You're the strongest person I know." And he means it, too. She looks up, and she looks so pitiful and scared and young that she might as well be an eleven year old girl hiding from a troll in a bathroom.

"I'm not strong enough, Harry," she says so sadly and desperately that he feels his heart break even more than it already is. He reaches up to wipe some of her tears away and then pulls her back in, hugging her as she lowers her head and cries some more.

"I'm going to help you," he promises, and she nods helplessly. He holds her and lets her cry, and eventually, he gives into his own tears as well. And they cry together for a long time. And he isn't sure how much time passes or what's going around on them.

Everything else can wait.

He doesn't know what to do, and he doesn't know if things are ever going to be okay. He wants to promise her all the things in the world, but he can't because he doesn't _know_. So he just holds her and lets her cry all the tears she needs to cry. And he may not know what's coming, but he does know one thing.

Whatever happens, he's going to take care of her. Forever.

He owes Ron that.

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A/N: Well, another quick update! If you made it all the way to the end, then I applaud you. This was long, I know, but it was surprisingly easy to write. I hope you guys enjoyed it and please let me know your opinions. Thanks!


	36. James, March 6th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 36

**JAMES**

**March 6****th**

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alcohol has never actually been a smart move for me.

I enjoy it (obviously), but it certainly hasn't helped me make too many brilliant decisions over the years. I'm not known for brilliant decisions anyway, though, so alcohol or none, I'd still have probably done most of the stupid shit anyway. Still, they aren't lying when they call it liquid courage. It sure does make you do things you otherwise wouldn't have the balls to do, doesn't it?

Like show up at your ex-girlfriend's flat and tell her how you're still in love with her.

Yep. That's me, by the way- the twat standing at his ex's door knocking loudly and well pissed off his head.

I don't know why I'm doing it. I feel like I've spent more time drunk and knocking on this door than I've spent doing anything else in my entire life. It seems like there's always something, and she's always hacked off at me. So I always end up here angry and pounding on the door and demanding that she talk to me. But I'm not angry right now. I'm actually pretty numb and emotionless at the moment.

So why am I here?

No idea really. I don't often make a whole lot of sense where Kate's concerned, though, so I'm sure no one's surprised. She isn't exactly the most grounding person where I'm concerned, but for some reason, I keep coming back. And I don't even know why. But it doesn't matter. I'm here now, and she opens the door and doesn't seem too shocked to see me.

She also doesn't immediately slam the door in my face, either, which is good at least.

"Hi," I say lowly, and I look down. I don't know why.

Kate leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms. "Hey."

She knows I'm drunk. Honestly, I'm mostly always drunk, so it's no surprise, I'm sure. And anyway, she knows me well enough to know just by looking when I've had too much. But she doesn't go right into how I'm a fucking arsehole for showing up pissed again. And she doesn't shove me back out into the corridor, either. So at least we're making progress.

"What're you doing here?" she finally asks when it's clear that I'm not going to say anything.

"Can I come in?" I ask, looking up and ignoring her question. She looks at me and narrows her eyes slightly, but she moves aside nonetheless. I follow her into the kitchen where she busies herself making tea like she so often does.

It strikes me that this was the site of our last conversation, the one that ended with her throwing metal objects at my head. Perhaps I should ask her to throw something else and this time not duck. At least then I might know I was still actually capable of feeling _something._

"My uncle died." I throw it out there matter-of-factly, and she doesn't look up from the kettle she's currently fussing with.

"I know," she says lowly. And then adds, "I'm sorry."

I nod my head once, even though she doesn't see me, and mutter, "Thanks."

I don't know why I bothered telling her. It's not as if the entire _world _doesn't know he's dead. It's been headline news every single day since it happened, and I'm fairly certain the whole of England as at the funeral earlier. Well, except her. She wasn't there.

"He's my godfather," I go on, leaning against the counter and looking over at her. "Did you know that?"

She nods, but she doesn't turn her head and make eye-contact with me. She looks intently at the kettle as she starts the water and then steps back to lean against the opposite counter, crossing her arms over her chest. She's uncomfortable, and she doesn't want me here. I don't know why I even came here, this sort of thing never ends well for us. I guess I'm just a prat.

I wanted her to be there. The whole time people kept flood in, I kept looking around as nonchalantly as possible to see if maybe she was among them. Of course, I didn't admit to what I was doing, and I tried really hard to stay focused on whatever Fred, and then later, a few of my mates were saying to stay distracted. It was difficult to be _too _distracted, though, considering the fact that everywhere I looked, people were crying or being otherwise miserable.

Rose, in particular, was difficult to watch because she seemed to be so easily distracted that when she happened to glance behind her at the open casket containing her father's body, she immediately dissolved into tears. I do feel really awful for her, and even if we've never been particularly _close _(or even particularly _cordial), _I still don't like seeing her like that. But she got a bit of her happy ending anyway. Scorpius is back. And by back, I mean he hasn't so much as left her side for more than ten minutes as far as I can tell. But I'm not really surprised. She and Scorpius have always been _serious, _as far as I can tell. I mean, you'd have to be, wouldn't you? If you're going to risk the disowning of your family over someone, it better be about more than sex, right? So it's good that he's back. She really needs him. I know this because the whole time they lowered her dad's body to be buried, she was able to watch. She stood there and clutched Scorpius's hand _so _tightly that it actually started turning white, but she was able to do it. And if he hadn't been there, she never would have been able to.

But Rose, Rose was _far _from the only one taking it hard. Landon, for all his annoyingness and brattiness, really seemed lost. I don't know. Maybe they shouldn't have let him come because I think even with how smart he is, he didn't really know what was going on. And he kept going back to the casket and looking. Over and over again, all afternoon. Everyone was fussing over him and trying to keep him out of his mum's way, but I think they probably should have just left him somewhere else altogether because he finally sat down on the floor and started crying. His mum wasn't around at that point because I think it happened during the time she and my dad inexplicably disappeared, but Rose very nearly lost it completely then and ended up carrying him outside. Rose is not a very nice person normally, but she is ridiculously protective over that kid and always has been his whole life.

And then there's Hugo who pretty much just keeps getting hit with one shit situation after another. Hugo is exactly the reason why I _don't _believe in karma. That kid's probably the nicest person in our entire family, and he's never done anything to deserve all the bad shit that keeps happening to him. If karma was real, it'd hit someone who deserved it, not maybe the only person I know who _doesn't _deserve it. And things just keep getting worse. A lot of that's thank to my sister who is apparently the biggest bitch to ever walk the earth. I still can't believe she did that to him. Of all the people in the world, I don't get why she had to pick _Hugo _to destroy. He's never done anything to anyone, and Lily is a horrible person.

And then his mum… She finally lost it, and she lost it in a big way. I wasn't sure if she was going to make it, and she looked worse off than I think I've ever seen anyone look. It isn't fair, is it? That she has to go through this, I mean. She never did anything to anyone, either. And now she's got to suffer because of some stupid bullshit. And it isn't _fair. _And my dad… He's a wreck. He couldn't even shake the officiator's hand after the funeral because he couldn't get his head out of his lap. Seriously. I've never see him so upset over anything, and it's _sad. _I guess I don't pay enough attention, but that's his best friend. And that's not easy.

"Do you want some tea?" Kate asks, straightening back up when the kettle starts screeching. She still doesn't make eye contact with me as she pulls down the cups.

"Got anything stronger?"

She barely rolls her eyes and starts pouring the tea. "Did you ever think maybe you've got a problem?" she asks, ignoring my request for something stronger and shoving a cup of tea into my hand.

"I've got lots of problems."

"You drink too much," she says flatly and looks up at me dully. I just shrug, and she shakes her head and walks into her dining room. She sits down at the table, and I watch her for a second before I join her. We sip the tea silently for a few minutes until she finally says, "Why're you here, James?"

"I came to apologize." I say it immediately without hesitating, and I look at her directly so that she's got no choice but to see I'm being honest.

Not that she cares.

"You came here _drunk _to apologize."

"So?"

She rolls her eyes again and shakes her head as she leans back in her chair and slumps a little bit. "Why don't you ever do anything when you're sober?"

Probably because I'm not sober often enough to test that theory. I don't know why she's nagging me, though. She drinks. Everyone drinks. And I hate when she brings it up like this. But I don't tell her this. Instead, I try to turn it into a positive.

"People can't lie when they're drunk."

"_You _could lie with Veritaserum down your throat," she counters immediately, raising her eyebrows at me challengingly.

And seriously? I don't know why I bother.

"Why are you so mean to me _all _the time?"

And Kate laughs a really humorless laugh and shakes her head. "Why did you even come here?"

"I told you I came to apologize."

She sets her cup down on the table rather loudly and sits up. "Then apologize."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

And now it's _my _turn to roll my eyes. "I don't know. I guess for always fucking _everything _up and never doing _anything _that's good enough for you."

"Right." She shakes her head disbelievingly. "It's always _me _and _my _issues, right?"

"Well, nothing I do is ever what you want, is it?" I can't believe how easy it is to fall out with her. I've only been here five minutes, and already we're snapping at each other. She doesn't seem too surprised.

"James, nothing you do is ever _about _me." She crosses her arms over her chest again and leans her head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment. "Everything you do is about _you. _It always has been, and it always will be."

"Right. Because I'm such a selfish bastard that I don't think about anyone else besides myself. That's it?"

"That's how it's _always _been." She looks at me seriously and then leans forward to rest her arms on the table. "I don't know why I always let myself think things are going to be different."

"You never give me a chance."

And it's true. She doesn't. She never believes anything I say, and she doesn't trust me. She refuses to even give me a chance to prove that I'm being honest when I tell her certain things, and she always hates everything I do. I can't win.

But she doesn't seem to agree with my sense of logic. She stares at me in disbelief for a few seconds, and then her eyes go wider. "Are you _serious?"_

I nod.

"I have been giving you chances since I was fifteen years old! Every time I do, I end up feeling like _shit!"_

"And you don't think I do?"

I don't even know what's going on. I just feel so _bad. _It's like every single part of me hurts, and I just want _one _piece to feel okay. I'm such a fuck up. In every sense of the word. And I just… I just want _her._

But I have no idea how to fix it.

I drop my head into my hands and just close my eyes. I don't even know why I came here or what I thought was going to happen. It's a lost cause, and I just make it worse every time I try to change it.

"Why do we do this, James?" Her voice sounds far off and sad. She doesn't sound angry anymore, but she doesn't sound like she wants to kiss and make up, either. But I don't know the answer to her question, so I just shake my head silently without lifting it from my hands. "You make me feel crazy…"

I let my elbows slide out from under me, and within seconds, my arms and my head are flat against the table. I feel sick. Part of me wants to throw up, and part of me wants to just go to sleep. I do neither, though, and when I feel the little shudder that hits my chest, I immediately try to stop it. It's futile, of course, and I feel the tears on my arms. I bite down hard on my lip to try to stop it, but that only makes my breathing turn instantly uneven.

_Fuck._

"I don't know why I always hurt you," I mumble, still trying to stop my crying. I realize I must look like _such _a tit, but I can't even help it. Besides, it's far from the first time I've made a fool of myself in front of her. She has this way of always making me end up like this.

But truthfully, I'm not even positive why I'm crying right now. I suppose it's more of a mix of things than any one thing in particular. Everything just seems to have built up, and I should have known coming here would make it all boil over. God, sometimes I _hate _myself.

The best thing about Kate, though, is that she can read me well enough to know what I'm talking about even when I'm not making any sense. "We try, James," she says quietly. "We try, and it doesn't work…"

I feel even sicker as I turn my head and look at her without lifting it. "I need it to work," I say honestly. I don't know where all this is coming from, but I know it's the truth.

"I wish it did." She sounds honest and sad and heartbroken. And I cry some more.

I sit up, hoping it'll help me stop making such an arse of myself. It doesn't, and I wipe at my eyes to make the stupid tears disappear. "Everything's such _shit," _I say, a little more desperately than I mean to.

"I'm sorry about your uncle," she says quietly, dipping her head and looking down into her teacup.

"Kate, please," I whisper, swallowing the ever-present lump in my throat. "Just give me another chance…"

I don't even think I'm _that _drunk, which makes it all the more pathetic. But I can't make myself care too much. I'll beg if I have to. If it comes to that. I just… _need _her. I wish I could put it into words, but I can't.

And, of course, I'm fantastic at making her cry. Her eyes well up, and she attempts the same lip-biting strategy as me. It doesn't work too well for her, either, and she drops her forehead into her palm for a few seconds before composing herself and sitting back up.

"I can't," she says seriously, visibly struggling to keep her voice under control. "I'm sorry… I just, I just can't do it anymore…"

"But why?" I'm very well aware of how ridiculous and pathetic I sound, but at the moment, I don't really care. It's sure as hell not as if I've never looked ridiculous and pathetic to her before. I don't have much to lose by this point.

Kate, for what it's worth, seems conflicted and sad, and I can't read what she's thinking. I meet her eye, and she stares at me unblinking for several seconds until she finally shakes her head. "Because I forget things when I'm around you!"

"What things?"

And she continues shaking her head. "I forget how bad it hurts… It's like," she draws in a shaky breath. "It's like everything feels so _good _with you… And then I forget. I forget how much it always hurts when it's over."

Sometimes I don't understand her. Sometimes she talks in riddles, and sometimes she says things that go way over my head. Now's one of those times. But I know what she's saying. When we're good together, it's _amazing. _She makes me feel things no one else ever has or has even come close to. But then when things go bad, it _does _hurt. Still, though, I don't know how to say it. But I don't care. All I can do is tell the truth because I'm too tired to do anything else.

"It doesn't have to be over…"

And then Kate just pushes her chair back and stands up. She starts walking back down her hallway, and I follow her immediately. I don't care if that's my sign to leave. I'm not in the mood for subtlety.

"We could make it work," I tell her earnestly, speaking now directly to the back of her head. And then she stops suddenly and turns around.

"It never works for us, James!"

"We can _make _it," I tell her again, and my voice drops slightly as I get distracted by her sudden closeness. She's so close now that I can hear her breaths.

"We're not good for each other." She says it slowly and determinedly, and she carefully avoids my eye by looking past my shoulder.

"You're the only thing good I've ever had." I say it without thinking, and once it's out, I realize how completely _female _it sounds, but I can't help it. And then my eyes start watering up, and I force them to stop. I'm not going to do this. I'm not going _cry. _

But it's really hard when every single inch of your body just _hurts._

And then Kate looks back up at me. Her eyes are guarded and careful, and she seems to be trying really hard to keep herself focused. She's distracted, though, by the closeness. And I know she wants it. Wants _me. _That's one look I _can _read.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asks quietly, and her voice sounds serious and pained.

But I only tell her the truth. "Because I _need _you."

"No, you don't. You don't need anyone," she goes on, just as quietly, and then she lifts her hand and carefully pushes some hair away from my forehead.

"I need _you," _I repeat, catching her hand as it drifts down from my head. I'm careful not to break eye contact with her, and the air is suddenly so thick that I really feel as if I'm suffocating. There's too much hurt, and then, at the same time, there's a dulling numbness inside me, too. And it's the weirdest thing. I lower my head until it's nearly level with hers, and our lips are just inches apart. "Just make me _feel _something," I beg softly. "_Please…"_

And she shakes her head, just barely, because she's terrified. I can tell that, too. Her eyes are wet and scared, and she's actually trembling a little bit. Honestly, I don't even know what I'm asking for. Sex, I suppose. It hasn't occurred to me before now that I was even here seeking that, but I guess that's part of it. But it's not really the sex, though, because I could leave now and easily find someone to fuck. No, it's the _connection. _I need that connection because it's the only thing that might keep me sane right now. And I've never had that with anyone but her. And I _need _it.

I need _her._

"Please, Katie…"

She leans forward the couple of inches that are separating us and kisses me first. She just barely brushes her lips against mine, and her eyes immediately flutter shut. I can tell that she hasn't got any control over anything. I don't either, though, so maybe we're even.

"I'm too scared," she whispers without really moving away. I can feel the warmth of her breath when she speaks. It makes me shiver.

"Just for tonight," I tell her lowly.

And again, I don't know what I'm asking for. Nothing makes sense right now, so why should this be any different? I just want to forget. I want to forget all the bad shit and just feel something else for a little while.

"James," she whispers quietly, and I keep my eyes locked on hers as she hesitates for maybe half a minute before finally finishing. "I love you…"

And then I feel everything just stop. I seriously don't know how I'm even breathing. She never said it before… Not once. Ever. And I don't know to think or what to feel, but she cuts off my confusion a second later when she kisses me again.

"Please don't hurt me," she whispers, and she sounds almost pleading as her lips find mine again.

I can't say anything in return. I can't do anything but focus on the way it feels to kiss her and to have her so close. And then she does that thing where she stands up tip toe and leans into me and very nearly climbs into my arms, so I've got no choice but to catch her and pick her up. She's so light that I barely notice, and she wraps both hands in my hair as she tilts my face up and kisses me fully.

And even though everything in the world has gone to shit, something finally feels _right. _And all I want to do is kiss her forever and not think about anything else ever again.

"Please," she whispers again when she pauses for just a second. "Promise…"

And what else can I do besides nod and blindly promise her anything in the world? I want her so badly, and she always makes me forget everything else. I can't think around her, and maybe that's not the best thing in the world… But I can't help it.

"I promise…"

It's a heavy promise, but it's one I hope I don't break.

For both our sakes…

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A/N: Thanks to everyone who read all the way through the last chapter and reviewed it. This one, I know, is kind of weird and all over the place, but that's where he is right now- weird and definitely all over the place. Thanks!


	37. Rose, March 7th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 37

**ROSE**

**March 7****th**

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Mum hasn't come out since yesterday.

She quite literally crashed and burned, and I don't know whether to be shocked or just accept the fact that it was bound to happen sooner or later. Up until the funeral, she didn't cry, she didn't fuss, she didn't even _sleep. _She just kept herself busy and kept moving and working, almost as if nothing had happened. But yesterday, she finally lost it. She broke down and sobbed through the entire funeral, and then afterwards, she denied requests to go everywhere from The Burrow to my nana's house to even Luna's house. She turned down all the offers and went home and straight to bed.

And she hasn't come out since.

I'm a bit concerned because I'm fairly certain she might end up starving herself to death. I'm also concerned, of course, because every time I knock on the door to ask her if she needs anything, she's always just lying in bed crying. I still don't know if she's even actually _sleeping. _She's always just crying. And I don't really know what to do.

The house has been emptier today than it's been all week, though, and I can't say I'm too upset by that. Truthfully, I'm sick and tired of people always being around and fussing over us. I'm sick of people asking me if I'm alright because, of course, I'm not fucking alright! My father just died, didn't he? I mean, honestly, do people think just because they ask, it's going to magically make everything just fine? It's not. Things aren't fine, and they probably won't _be _fine for a really long time. So I wish everyone would just stop asking already.

But even though it's not quite as crowded as it has been, people have still been dropping in throughout the day. Some of them bring food, which, of course, I don't mind because no one should ever have a problem with free food. Some of them don't, though, and when my cousin Molly showed up with a book on projecting grief, I very nearly hexed her and told her to leave us alone.

I haven't got much patience with a lot of my cousins lately, probably because most of them are annoying prats who do nothing well except annoy me.

Victorie is a superficial drama queen who has never exactly been a great mate of mine (not to mention the fact that her mouthy little daughter traumatized my little brother hours before my dad's funeral). Dominique is a whore who's engaged to one man and fucking another one. Molly is just downright annoying- I've never met a person so boring who could be so damn annoying. Lucy may as well not exist as inconsequential as she is. Fred is a gigantic prat who can't take anything in the world seriously. James… Well, I haven't quite got the time, have I? Al is apparently shagging the girl who's supposed to be my best friend and has, thus far, failed to mention such detail to me. Lily is an absolutely horrible little bint dead-set on destroying my brother for some unknown reason. Louis smokes so much weed that I don't even think he can tell when he's not high anymore. And Roxie is Lily-in-Training, only with sluttier tendencies, and she's only thirteen…

So there you've got it. You can see why I'm not exactly too thrilled when they show up. But it doesn't matter. None of them matter right. Right now, the only people I care about are my mum, my brothers, and Scorpius. And while Mum's upstairs sleeping or crying or whatever she's doing, Hugo's locked up in his room doing something and Scorpius is entertaining Landon. It's a lot nicer outside today than it was yesterday. The sun's out for one, and the temperature's not _too _awfully cold. Scorpius has got Landon outside on the broomstick, taking him up for some stunts that I'm _sure _my mother wouldn't approve of were she to wake up and look into the backyard. The chances of that are slim to none, though, so it's okay. Scorpius was more concerned about the fact that we live in a Muggle neighborhood, but I assured him that the backyard is _well _charmed and that Quidditch can be played at leisure and without worry. My dad made sure of that when he tried to turn Hugo and me into players. Needless to say, he had a _bit _more success with Hugo, but he certainly didn't train up any superstars.

But Landon loves it.

He's not too bad from what I can tell (which, admittedly, is not a whole lot because even though I know a few Quidditch players, I'm certainly no expert). He seems to have a natural talent for it, though, and he's not a bad flyer. Of course, he doesn't fly a real broom yet, but he's been moving up in the training ones ever since he was really little. And he isn't scared at all to go up with people who actually know what they're doing. That's probably part of the reason why he's always been slightly enamored with James. But James doesn't often have time for Landon, which is a surprise to absolutely no one, I'm sure. So, needless to say, when Scorpius offered to take him flying, Landon went absolutely mental and could barely stand still long enough to get his jacket on.

I don't know what I'd do without him- Scorpius, I mean. Honestly. I've got no idea. I'm fairly certain I'd really be locked up right now if he hadn't shown up and saved me. He's just so good a taking care of things- taking care of me, taking care of my family… And now I know for sure that nothing else matters except for who _he _is. I already knew it, I suppose, but now I can't even pretend to worry otherwise. And I love him for it.

I can see Scorpius and Landon out through the kitchen window. The house is spotless, as a million different people have been cleaning it incessantly, but the kitchen is a little junked up from breakfast. I try to straighten it up and keep an eye on them in the backyard as well. Landon is absolutely off his head thrilled, which is awesome because the poor kid was pretty upset yesterday. Not that I blame him, of course. I certainly wasn't the _happiest _I've ever been… but he's just little and probably doesn't even understand everything that's happening. Hell, I can't even understand it, and I'm almost twenty years old.

They come in after awhile, and Landon runs straight for the brand new batch of cookies that my aunt Audrey brought by earlier this morning. He grabs one and immediately bites into, dribbling crumbs all down his front and right onto the freshly-cleaned floor.

"Messy!" I tell him, motioning to the pile of crumbs, and he just shrugs carelessly and continues to eat as I aim my wand and quickly clear the mess.

"I need something to drink," he tells me through a mouthful, but I ignore his obvious rudeness and pour him some juice.

"You smell like mud," I tell him, handing him the glass and looking at him with a wrinkled nose.

"It's not mud," he informs me smartly as he washes down the cookie with the juice. "It's wet grass."

I ignore him and turn instead to the much older, but just as dirty, boy. "You can clean him up," I tell him pointedly.

But Scorpius just shrugs and reaches for a glass for his own juice.

"Rose," Landon pipes up suddenly and grabs both my hands eagerly. "Can I go with Scorpius?" His eyes are wide and excited, and he looks up pleadingly.

"Go with him where?" I feel like my mum when I reach for a rag and start wiping the dirt off his face as he pulls away annoyed.

"To Quidditch!"

"To training?" I raise my eyebrows and then shake my head. "No, he has to go to _work." _I'm not sure Landon grasps the fact that, to Scorpius, Quidditch is actually a job and not just a fun hobby like the pick-up games that take place in the garden.

Landon, though, isn't deterred. "So? I can go with him! I won't get in the way!"

I shake my head again at exactly the same moment Scorpius says, "It's okay. He can hang out."

Of course, this makes Landon about fifty times more eager, and he grabs my hands again. "_Please, _Rose?"

I look over his head and give Scorpius a significant look that he seems to read easily. "It's up to you, of course," he goes on quickly. "It might be too boring."

"It's _not," _Landon insists, though, obviously he has no idea. _"Please."_

I hesitate, worried a bit. It's not that I don't trust Scorpius, it's just that Landon is little and still needs to be watched. Still, it's only for an afternoon, and Scorpius _did _already promise he'd come straight back when practice was over. He doesn't want to go at all because I guess he thinks I shouldn't be on my own. But after a week of missed training sessions, he's pretty much at the point of go to practice or get fired.

So he's going.

And I guess he's taking Landon along as well…

"Fine," I finally give in (and Landon very nearly jumps for joy), "but you have to take a shower before you go. You're filthy."

He looks like he's going to protest, but I fix him with a warning look, and he smartly keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he just nods and runs upstairs to get ready. Scorpius pours himself more juice.

"You have to watch him," I say seriously. "He's just a kid."

"It'll be fine," he assures me, downing the juice and then rinsing his glass out. "There're always lots of people around watching. He can sit in the stands."

"Well, you also have to help him with the Floo."

"He can't side-along?"

I look at him incredulously. "No, he gets sick! You have to use the Floo. And you have to help him. He isn't that great at properly aiming his destinations…"

"Rose, it's _fine," _he repeats slowly. "Where's Hugo?"

I shrug and decide to go find out. I head for the stairs, and Scorpius follows behind me. Hugo's door is closed, and I don't hear anything from inside. So I knock. And immediately, Hugo's panicked voice answers me.

"Don't come in!"

"_Ew!" _I say instantly, and I really feel sick at the mere thought. "Stop wanking and open the door!"

"I'm not!" he insists loudly, and I hear shuffling right away as he runs over and yanks open the door. "I'm _not," _he says seriously, blushing like mad as he glances from me to Scorpius and back to me.

"Then what're you doing?" I try to look past him, but he moves and blocks my view.

"I'm just…" he looks flustered and embarrassed, "writing," he finally finishes.

"Writing what?"

"A letter." He looks like he wants to smack me.

"A letter to whom?"

"God!" He rolls his eyes and moves again. "Why are you so nosey?"

I just shrug, not caring that I'm giving him a hard time. He deserves it. That's what he gets for being a little brother.

"It's none of your business," he says snottily, and I can't help but be amused by his defensiveness.

"Testy, testy…" I smirk, and it drives him insane. Not that I care, of course.

My pestering is interrupted, though, by the appearance of Landon who comes rushing down the hallway at full speed. I have a sinking suspicion that he actually hasn't showered at all, but has merely changed clothes and washed his face. He doesn't _smell _at least, though, so I let it go.

"Be good," I tell him seriously, and he rolls his eyes dramatically. I feel inexplicably nervous, and I look instead to Scorpius and eye-plead with him. "Please be careful."

Both Landon _and _Scorpius roll their eyes to this, and I'm sure if my back wasn't to Hugo presently, I'd catch his rolling as well. I don't know how the hell I ended up with so many boys, but I ignore them all. They aren't naturally cautious, so they need reminders about being careful and being good.

Scorpius and Landon take off downstairs to the fireplace after that, and I turn back around to Hugo to tease him some more. But he doesn't really look up for teasing. In fact, he suddenly looks kind of miserable, and I instantly feel bad. It's horrible to say, but it's really easy to forget how much shit is happening when there's a viable distraction. I mean, it's not as if I actually _forget _that my dad's dead or anything like that, but it's pretty easy to push the thought aside and not dwell on it. But then something happens (like your brother looking close to tears), and it brings it all right back.

"You okay?" I ask, not really wanting him to think that I'm trying to coddle because I know he doesn't want that. But obviously I'm still concerned.

He doesn't say anything for a second, just sort of glances around at the wall behind my head before finally sighing loudly and looking at me straight on.

"Can you keep a secret?"

I raise my eyebrows. Hugo doesn't tell me secrets. I don't tell _him _secrets. We're not that close, and we're _definitely _not that trusting of each other. But maybe things are different now. Maybe it's us against the world now.

"It's a _real _secret," he says seriously, and I can tell he's nervous. He is wary of telling whatever he's about to tell, but he definitely wants it off his chest. That much is clear from his face.

So I nod.

Again, he doesn't say anything straight away. He hesitates for a long moment and seems to be thinking over his decision to share anything personal with me. He doesn't have too many other options, though, seeing as Landon and Scorpius are gone and Mum is currently incapacitated. So he finally motions for me to follow him into his room. It's disgusting, of course, because he's absolutely incapable of keeping _anything _neat. He's not even been home a week, and there are clothes all over the floor (his schoolbooks, of course, are stacked untouched and neatly in the corner). His bed is unmade, and everything about it looks wrinkled and unkempt. I do a quick glance at it just to make sure he _wasn't _just participating in my original suspected activity… And even though I don't _see _anything, the thought alone is enough to make me choose his desk chair as my seat of choice. He, of course, thinks nothing of falling onto his bed and leaning back on his elbows.

I don't say anything as I wait for him to finally come out with it already. He gives about fifteen more heavy sighs and then sits back up and looks at me.

"That baby isn't mine."

He says it pointedly and determinedly. I just stare at him in shock, letting the words echo in my ear a couple of times before I process them.

"Sorry?"

"It's not my baby," he repeats evenly.

"I'm sorry," I shake my head. "You're going to have to explain what you mean…"

He rolls his eyes and shoots me a half-glare. "It's not my fucking _kid," _he says as slowly and smart-alecky as possible.

And I sort of want to slap him. But I don't.

Instead, I just close my eyes briefly and then reopen them, determined to be calm and sophisticated about whatever inevitable stupid story he's about to share. "Okay," I say inhaling slightly. "And how long have you known this?"

He looks down at the floor and twists around a little bit. "Awhile."

Awhile. Brilliant. Still- calm and sophisticated. "Okay, and why haven't you told anyone before now?"

Hugo frowns and then shrugs. "Too late," he mumbles, and I'm struck by how absolutely _twelve _he looks. All frowny and mumbly and twisty.

"And so Maria…" I search around for the right words. "She knows you know, right?" He nods. "And you're sure?" I raise my eyebrows at him, and he just nods again. "There's no possibility that it _is _yours? It's impossible, right?"

"I had sex with her," he says flatly, answering the question I couldn't bring myself to outright ask. He, for some reason, doesn't seem embarrassed by the statement, despite the fact that I myself now want to crawl into a hole and die after hearing my little brother admit to having sex. He seems unfazed, though, and goes right on. "But she says the times don't add up."

And now, in addition to slapping him, I also want to strangle him.

"So when did she tell you the truth? After it came out in the papers?"

But of course not. Of course that would make _far _too much sense. Hugo turns red and squirms a little bit more. "She didn't lie to me," he says quietly. "I just assumed… And then she told me, and I'd already told Mum and Dad…"

And if I were facing the other direction, my forehead would make contact with the desk right _now. _

"Stop," I say, holding up a hand. "Just… stop."

But Hugo is really upset, and I can tell he's close to freaking out. "Now I don't know what to do!"

"You don't have to do anything!" I tell him, completely frustrated already. "You don't even like that girl! She just manipulated you into claiming the kid was yours, you don't owe her anything!"

"She didn't manipulate me into anything!" He sort of looks angry, and I guess he must still be into defending her or something. I don't know. "I offered because she doesn't have anybody else…"

And there it is.

Sometimes this kid can be the stupidest person I've ever met, but it's hard to place too much blame on him because he always does everything so honestly and so genuinely. I just shake my head and say nothing.

"I don't know what to do," he says again. And he looks away defeated.

I want to tell him he's an idiot and that he is possibly the stupidest person on the planet and ask how thick you have to be to do something this unintelligent. But I don't. He's upset and beating himself up. Not to mention, of course, that he's having a rough time and with everything that's happened, he doesn't need me lecturing him on stupidity.

"You need to tell Mum."

But he just frowns even deeper and lets out another loud huff. "I don't want to. She's going to be so mad…"

"She'll know what to do." Honestly, I have no idea if this is the truth. As far as I can tell, my mum may very well be at a point where she's absolutely incapable of rendering any type of advice and/or solutions. But I need to keep things as optimistic as possible.

"I already embarrassed her enough," he mumbles. And then he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "I wish we were normal."

I don't have to ask him what he means, and I can't say anything because I wish the same thing and have on a daily basis for at least the past six or seven years. People don't know what it's like. I know it sounds pathetic and spoilt to bitch about something like that, considering the fact that we've had a million opportunities and privileges that most people never even dream about. But until you've lived it, it's really impossible to imagine. It's hard. There's a lot of pressure that no one else understands, so I know exactly where he's coming from.

And so that's when I make a decision. I'm supposed to look out for him. I'm his big sister, that's my job.

"Do you want me to tell her?"

Hugo rubs at his eyes for a second, and while I don't necessarily think he's _crying, _I know he's upset. And I know he's at the point where he _could _cry if he wanted to. And it kind of makes me feel awful because I haven't even paid much attention to him. Maybe it's just because we've never been exceptionally close, so it's sort of weird to suddenly change all that just because Dad died. But, at the same time, Dad dying made us both realize something, I think. At one point, we're going to be all each other have (well, us and Landon) because eventually parents die. And if even if they die when they're supposed to- when you're grown up and have your own family and your own kids- it still all comes down to you as the kids. And so maybe we're a lot luckier than we even realize because at least we've got each other.

And that's why I offer to do his dirty work for him.

He shakes his head finally and mutters a half-heard, "Not yet…"

We don't say anything for a few moments, and then I shake my head. "You're too nice for your own good, Hugo."

And he frowns again, knowing I'm right. But he can't help being that way anymore than I can help being over-reactive sometimes (or a lot of time).

"We can tell her later," he says quietly. "When she feels better."

I don't want to say anything because there's no point in bringing attention to the fact that she probably isn't going to feel better anytime soon. Hugo knows it as well as I know it. And then I don't even realize that my eyes are watering up a bit, which isn't really surprising because I randomly start crying a lot these days. But overall, I think I'm doing alright. And Hugo's doing alright.

And eventually, things may actually get better.

In the meantime, though, I've got my mum, I've got Scorpius, and I've got my brothers. And right now, that's all that matters.

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A/N: Sorry for the delay. Holiday, life, etc! Haha, thanks for reading and reviewing!


	38. Lily, March 12th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 38

**LILY**

**March 12****th**

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If you've ever wondered what it takes to go from the top of the food chain to the bottom, I can give you an idea. It's not always about survival of the fittest or whatever shit they try to make up and feed you in school. There's a lot more to it than that actually, and trust me, it isn't pretty when it all starts crumbling.

Here, let me tell you a little story.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Lily. She was born into a fairytale with a real, live hero for a daddy and a beautiful maiden for a mummy. She also had two stupid brothers, but they were a small price to pay for all the other magical parts of her life. She was treated like a princess, and everyone always oohed and ahhed over how cute she was. She had every toy she ever wanted and people always did exactly what she told them to do.

When she grew up, she got even _more _beautiful, and even _more _people oohed and ahhed over her. All the boys wanted to date her, and all the girls wanted to _be _her. Everyone was jealous of her and envied her and wanted all the things she had- her money, her privilege, and, of course, her beauty. Anyone who was her friend was lucky and envied, too, because to be friends with her made you instantly popular and sought-after as well.

Her life was perfect, down to ever last detail. And then one day…

It all went to shit.

So enough of the fairytale bullshit. The truth is, I don't even _know _how it happened. It honestly never crossed my mind that things could ever get this fucked up. It's like in the course of one week everything in the world's just fallen apart. And I have no idea what to do.

For starters, I'm back at school. I had to come back the Saturday after the funeral, so I was gone for exactly one week. In a way, I'm glad to be back. Well, as glad as you _can _be coming back to this hellhole, of course. Still, it might not be so bad compared to the alternative, which is my home. Where my family hates me.

Yeah, _that's _fantastic…

My brothers both think I'm a bitch, and neither one of them has even spared me more than two words in the past week. I sort of expect it from Al because he's always had holier than thou superiority issues. He thinks that he's somehow above the rest of us because he's supposedly less vain and less materialistic. The _real _reason, of course, is that he's just more of a loser. It's easy to disguise lameness as superiority when you've got nothing else to worry about. So whatever, if he thinks I'm a bitch, then fine. But the truth is, he killed my uncle (now that I know the _whole _story, I know that's the truth), so he can pretend to be better than me and judge me all he wants, but at least I didn't kill anyone. But the kicker is James. James, with all his scheming, lying, and cheating, really has _no _room to judge me. But he does. And he seems to think that it's just cool, and I'm just going to be like, _'Oh, yeah, I understand. I'm a bitch. Totally.' _But he's sadly mistaken if he thinks I'm going to let him give me _any _type of moral advice. Bastard. I hope Kate dumps him again and makes him cry like the little bitch he is.

But whatever, I can _deal _with my brothers being dicks. They've been that way my whole life. What I _can't _deal with is my parents hating me. Mum wants to murder me. She really, seriously wants to murder me. I can tell because every time she speaks to me, she clenches her jaw and unconsciously pops her knuckles. I know it's so that she won't reach out and choke the life out of me. Whenever she says anything to me (which isn't often), she snaps at me and huffs. She told me that she can't believe I turned out to be so selfish and says she just doesn't know where she went wrong and how she could have messed up so badly. Maybe she should have asked herself that question after James, oh I don't know, spoke his first full sentence. But, of course, he's always been her blatant favorite, so why should I be surprised that she thinks I'm worse than he is.

And then there's Dad.

If there's one part I've always played, it's Daddy's Little Girl. I can probably count the number of times he's actually been _really _angry with me on one hand. I won't lie and try to pretend like it's something it's not. It is what it is, and I'm _spoilt. _It's his fault, of course, because he's the one who's always done the most spoiling. He has a very difficult time saying no to me, and I do the whole baby/only girl thing pretty well. My whole life, he's always just let me get away with things and given me pretty much whatever I want. So now that this has happened, you can imagine the change.

I'm not even sure he's actually _angry. _He's _"disappointed." _That's the word he used. Personally, I would have preferred "_pissed the fuck off," _but apparently I don't get a choice in the matter. When he finally decided to speak to me (which was just the day before I left, mind you), he told me he was really disappointed that I could do something like that, especially, he said, to my own family. And then he added the clencher. He said that not only is Hugo my cousin, he's also someone who should be my closest friend. And then he started crying. And, of course, I started crying.

But for the first time in my entire life, he didn't comfort me.

So, yes, you can see why I was anxious to get back to Hogwarts and get out of there. I couldn't take my family anymore, and I just wanted to get back to some kind of sense of normalcy that didn't involve random bouts of tears at every turn and evil glares and disappointed frowns. I just wanted to get back to my _life._

I should have known shit would continue to follow me everywhere.

See, here's something else you should know. Apparently the whole of Hogwarts knew about my evil treachery before I even stepped foot back in the school. Thanks, of course, to my darling little cousin Roxanne. Apparently, she thought it would be a fantastic bit of gossip to spread around when she got back here after the funeral. She and Louis didn't stay home for the week like I did. They came home last weekend and then came home for the funeral, but then they went back to school. So I shouldn't really be surprised that personal family drama made it to Hogwarts before I even did.

And Roxanne is a little bitch who better watch her fucking back.

But anyway, everyone knows. And apparently, everyone thinks I've just committed the worst, most unforgiveable sin in the history of the universe because _everyone _hates me. Even my so-called "friends" suddenly think I'm the scum of the earth. As if any of those brain-dead sluts are any better. Bitches. And not only do the _students _know, but all the teachers know, too. This is especially awful, as so many of the professors are close friends with Neville. Not to mention, of course, that I'm actually enrolled in Herbology NEWT Level, so I have to sit through his class twice a week and feel humiliated and ashamed.

And then there's Amanda.

Hugo isn't back yet. I don't know when he's coming back exactly, but I doubt it'll be too much longer. Still, though, he's still at home with his mum, and I'm back here with all the people who hate me. And Amanda. Who I assume probably hates me the most. Not that it's really anything new, considering the fact that she's hated me for several years now. But now she actually has a legitimate reason that isn't based primarily on jealousy. And it pretty much sucks because I know she's got every reason in the world to try and beat the shit out of me. But she hasn't even acknowledged me. Except for the time I actually tried to speak to her the second night I was back, of course.

I went into our room to look for my Potions book so that I could try and catch up on some missed homework from the time I was gone, and I honestly didn't expect anyone to be there, seeing as how it was seven o'clock and nearly everyone in the entire school was downstairs in the Great Hall for dinner. But Amanda was in there. Of course. Because fate hates me.

She'd avoided me completely since the second I got back. Even when all the other girls in our room were telling me what a bitch I was and asking how I could live with myself after doing something so _horrible, _she just got into her bed and pulled the curtains around it. I think people were expecting some huge blowup or fight, but she seemed very determined to completely ignore my existence altogether. So when I found her alone in the room during dinner that night, I figured maybe it was my best chance of making something at least a _little _okay.

She looked up when I came in, but she didn't say anything. She was doing some revision of her own, and she actually looked kind of anxious when I walked in. It only lasted for a second, though, until she pursed her lips, sat up straighter, and pointedly ignored me. I got my book and started to just leave, but then I decided I may as well give it a go.

"Amanda…" I didn't know what to say, so I just stopped. And when she looked up again, she certainly looked less than friendly. "I just wanted to say…" But again, I had no idea.

She didn't seem to care, though. "I don't want to hear anything you've got to say," she said flatly, and she didn't seem to be exaggerating, either. "You haven't _got _anything to say."

I didn't reply. It was fairly pointless anyway, seeing as how I _didn't _have anything to say. What was there to say anyway? I didn't have any excuses- fake or legitimate- so what was the point of me saying anything? I stood there awkwardly for a couple of minutes, and then I turned around and tried to leave. But she apparently changed her mind.

"I _am _surprised, though," she said lowly just as I made my way to the door, "even for _you. _I'm not surprised you did it to me, obviously, because I know that you hate me."

"I don't _hate _you-"I tried to protest, but she cut me off.

"Don't lie. Yes, you do. Anyway," she shook her head when I turned back around to look at her, "I'm just surprised you could do it to Hugo. That's all."

In case you've never _actually _felt a dagger go through your heart, I'm fairly certain I could explain it quite accurately. That's exactly what it feels like whenever _anyone _says that. I _know _I hurt Hugo, and I know I shouldn't have. Hugo is one of those extraordinary people who honestly don't deserve to be fucked about. In other words, I'm a bitch for even thinking about doing something mean to him. Yes, I know. Now fucking crucify me already and get it over with.

And that's the way it's been the whole time.

Everyone in the world now knows what I did, and they all think I'm a cold, heartless bitch. Some people don't even seem to realize that I did it well before anything happened to Uncle Ron, so it's not like I just up and decided, _'Oh, your dad died, so now I'm going to fuck up your life even more!' _Obviously if it had happened before, I never would have ever done it. And I'm _sorry _I did it. But I can't take it back, and I don't know how to make it any better.

The only people who talk to me at all now are guys, and they only talk to me because, bitch or not, they still want to fuck me. In all reality, I'd rather chew off my own leg than even come within inches of their micro-dicks. I may have temporarily lost my social status, but I am by no means whatsoever _desperate. _I have my pride if nothing else.

I'm in our weekly mandatory NEWT revision session when things finally get to their worst. I'm sitting alone, of course, because I haven't got any friends. Amanda's sitting with a couple of girls from Ravenclaw, and they're looking at Transfiguration notes. I'm _attempting _to study Potions, but I'm practically complete rubbish at it. The only reason I was even allowed into NEWT level is because Montague likes my tits. Everyone else in our year is grouped off into their usual cliques. There aren't any teachers around, as they've all got other classes to be teaching. We're all spread out over the Great Hall for two hours just like we are _every _Tuesday afternoon. I used to like this time because it a nice break from classes with little to no supervision, which generally meant time for gossip and/or a kip.

But now I'm a loser. So now I have to do what losers do. Study.

Potions sucks. Or maybe it's just me, I dunno. It doesn't even matter anyway. I should just up and leave school, seeing as how I've got absolutely no real career plans, and I certainly have no intention of ever being in a situation where I need to brew wolfsbane. But I can't do that. I've got to at least sit my exams (whether I pass them or not) because if I skip them, everyone'll just say I'm copying James anyway. And I'm certainly not going to copy _that _bastard.

It isn't long before two of my former "friends" approach me and stand on the other side of the table across from me. Lydia and Emma both look smug and devious as they stand silently waiting for me to acknowledge their presence. I pretend not to notice them for quite some time until finally I can't do it anymore.

"What?" I ask snappily, looking up from my revision huffily.

They smirk, and Lydia's face looks even fatter than usual. She should go back to making herself puke. It made her eyes bloodshot, but at least she didn't look like a little piggy caught doing something naughty.

She's the one who speaks, too, which is fantastic because she's decided to make my life hell both in and out of the dormitory. "So how was it with Kenneth McIntyre?"

I have absolutely no idea what she's talking about, nor do I even know _who _she's talking about. "Who the fuck is Kenneth McIntyre? And what are you on about?" I've got absolutely no patience for this.

"He's that fifteen year old you sucked off last night before you let him spunk in your mouth."

I don't say anything for probably thirty seconds because I can't quite comprehend the words that are coming stupidly out of her mouth. When I finally _do _get my wits about me, it takes me another good fourteen or fifteen seconds to even think of an adequate reply.

"I don't even _know _who that is, and I certainly didn't suck anyone off, you idiot."

Lydia just smirks again, and she looks over at Emma who snickers. "That's not what he said. He's told everyone you blew him well last night."

"I don't even-" I cut myself off trying to even _place _a Kenneth, and then it hits me. Louis's stupid mate who I wanked off for Roxie's spliff awhile back. _Please. _I actually laugh when the face catches up with the name. "Yeah, _right," _I say hotly. "I'm so sure that's how I spent my evening… _Right. _He's _lying."_

"Can't be a bigger liar than you." Lydia raises her eyebrows almost challengingly, and I sort of want to laugh again. She really thinks she's something, doesn't she?

"Look, Lydia," I say smoothly. "I'm not that desperate. Not by a _long _shot. I know you can't understand that, seeing as how fatties have no choice but to take whatever comes along."

Someone somewhere down the table laughs out loud at this, but I don't even bother turning my head to see who. Lydia looks _outraged, _and Emma's got some pathetic sort of ridiculous _follower _face on as if she doesn't know where to turn and is scared I'm going to say something about her as well. I don't need to, though, because Lydia provides me with all the ammunition I need.

"At least I don't give blow jobs to fifteen year olds," she hisses nastily, as if simply saying it makes it any way true.

I just give my best fake overly-shocked face. "Really? I thought you'd put _anything _in your mouth. You certainly don't seem to discriminate when it comes to food. Your arse shows that."

Several more people laugh, but I ignore them as well. Instead, I just start packing up my bag, not even caring that we've still got forty-five minutes left before dismissal. Lydia stares at me in outraged shock, and Emma stands by and looks awkward. I just finish packing my things and then stand up.

"Don't fuck with me," I warn them seriously in a low voice. I know more people are paying attention now, but I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of even saying it right out loud where everyone can hear. Instead, I just look at them darkly and let them know that in no way am I joking. "You won't win," I promise earnestly. "And I'll _ruin _you."

I don't say another word to anyone as I grab my bag and march straight out of the Great Hall. I know I'll probably get in trouble for skiving, but I probably couldn't care _less _at the moment. I'm so fucking tired of _everything, _and school is no exception. And these stupid bitches who are trying to be better than me are really starting to piss me off. The only problem, of course, is that I'm not quite sure I've still got the pull to _ruin _anyone, much less a group of girls who are considered to be the most popular (all thanks to _me, _of course!), but it doesn't even matter, does it? Oh, who am I kidding? Of _course _it matters. When you're seventeen, it's _all _that matters.

I'll turn things back around. I'm not going to let a bunch of pathetic, social-grubbing slags fuck up my life even more than it already is. _I'm _the one who makes the rules around here, and they'd do well not to forget it. Actually, I feel a bit better because I've suddenly got a _purpose _again. I'll take down every single one of those sluts, and I _dare _any of them to try and fuck with me.

I may have shit in all areas of my life, but _this _is one thing I'm good at. This school belongs to _me, _not any of them and not anyone else. I'm good at making the rules and running the game, and even if I'm down at the moment, that doesn't mean I've got to _stay _down. I can't control anything else. I can't make my mum like me, I can't make my dad forgive me. I can't make my brothers stop being dicks, and I can't make Hugo feel any better. But I _can _do this.

First things first, though. I'm going to find out where the Fifth Year Gryffindors are right now and beat the living _shit _out of Kenneth McIntyre.

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A/N: Short, I know. It's mostly filler, though, so I didn't have a lot to put in there. Kate's next! (I think…) Thanks for reading!


	39. Kate, March 14th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 39

**KATE**

**March 14****th**

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When Marc proposed to me, he planned a romantic dinner at a tiny restaurant in downtown Paris and got down on one knee with a diamond during dessert as the sun set just behind the Eiffel Tower. It was one of those storybook proposals that you never think actually exist until they happen to you. It was beautiful and lovely, and really, how could I say no? I couldn't, and I didn't. And then I found myself engaged.

And that was the end of the storybook.

When _James _proposed, he didn't even _have _a ring. There was no dinner and no sunset. It was the middle of the night in a Greek hotel room after he raided the last of the mini-bar selection and crawled back into bed. And he didn't even actually _propose. _He put a hand on my cheek and let his fingers lightly dance there for a second as I lay trying to get to sleep, and then he said, _"Let's get married."_

Just like that. Just short and sweet and to the point. And for some unknown reason, I didn't even think twice before saying, _"Okay."_

And so that's how I found myself engaged yet again.

Now, honestly, I don't know what possessed him to ask, and I don't know what possessed me to say yes. They say love makes you do stupid things, and maybe it's true. Maybe that's all it is. Maybe it just makes you irrational and spontaneous and completely off your bloody head. And maybe that's just why I said yes to any of it.

When James randomly announced that he wanted to go to Greece, I expected him to mean sometime in the coming months, not right then that very day. But that's exactly what he meant. And I, being so off my bloody head, agreed. I didn't, of course, take into consideration the fact that I would be up and leaving my job for said spontaneous holiday without so much as a day's notice, nor did I take into consideration the fact that I'd probably do a spectacular job of pissing the bank off with my impromptu leave. Or maybe I just didn't care. Whatever the reason, though, I found myself packing a quick bag and Apparating to a beach a thousand some odd miles away.

And Greece is _beautiful._

One of the nice things about James is that he's got money- _loads _of it (trust me, I handle his account, I know _exactly _how much). Not that his money matters to me, and I'm being honest with that because I'd like him the same with or without it. But it certainly doesn't hurt when it comes to things like impromptu holidays. The hotel is beautiful. The beach is beautiful. The view is beautiful. And _he _is beautiful. So no wonder it was so terribly easy for me to get wrapped up in and blinded by the beauty of it all.

And being blind makes saying yes to things extremely easy.

The two days we spent here _before _the "proposal" were amazing. James is so strange in the way he can be so utterly _perfect _when he wants to be. It took me a long time to get to a point where I could believe any of it, but there's something there that I just know has to be real. I can tell when he looks at me that he isn't lying, and when he says I'm beautiful, he _means _it. James can have anything and anyone in the world that he wants, so he wouldn't put this much effort into something if he didn't _really _want it. And that's what I keep telling myself because I won't lie and say part of me isn't terrified that he's going to break my heart for the millionth time.

But James is different now. He's extremely vulnerable and seems a lot less brash and dramatic lately, most of which, I assume, has to do with the loss of his uncle. He won't admit it, of course, because he won't willingly show that much emotion or vulnerability, but sometimes he can't hide it. He drops a lot of the façade when he's around me anyway, which is more than anyone else can say. The problem with it all, of course, is that I really _know _James, and I know how hard it is for him to process certain emotions. So take that, mixed with the ample amounts of alcohol he's been known to consume, and you've got the perfect recipe for madness.

And maybe that's how I got here.

After I said okay to the marriage idea, James was completely ecstatic, which, in turn, made me completely ecstatic as well. It's very difficult _not _to get wrapped up in the excitement of that sort of thing. And before the sun even rose, we'd already decided that instead of going home, announcing our engagement, and planning a wedding like normal people, that we'd just throw all care to the wind and get married right there in Greece. According to James, there was absolutely no point in waiting because this is how things were always supposed to turn out. Waiting would just be putting off the inevitable, and, as he said, _"I don't want to spend another day without you."_

Well, I'm sure you can imagine how completely _useless _that statement made me. Even if I'd _wanted _to be sensible and consider the situation like a rational adult, I would have been absolutely left out cold after that. In fact, all I wanted to do was jump him right then and there and forget that anyone else in the world even _existed. _I didn't, though, because even impromptu, spur-of-the-moment weddings take quite a bit of effort, and we ended up having to wait not just one day, but _three _more days before we got everything worked out.

Again, the money issue worked to our advantage because James was able to track down the local Ministry and bribe them rather easily into handling all the paperwork and keeping everything quiet. The quiet thing is important, see, because if word were to get out, not only would our families find out rather immediately (his right away, mine probably just shortly after), but the whole _world _would find out. And even if James has only himself to blame for his international celebrity, the fact still remains that it exists. And there's absolutely no way in the world we could ever have a quiet, romantic ceremony with the influx of media that would inevitably show up. So, luckily for us, the Greek Ministry is just corrupt enough to accept monetary bribes in exchange for their silence.

But even with the paperwork issue being taken care of, there are a million other things to handle. Like the fact that James proposed without a ring. He's been far more concerned with this aspect than I have, which isn't all that surprising considering the fact that rings mean little to me. They certainly don't prove anything. I know this because I already had one, but that didn't stop me being dumped or stop Marc from asking for it back after said dumping. The ring is supposedly a symbol of something- a promise, I suppose- but really it's nothing but a piece of metal. A man could give you a paperclip, and it would essentially mean the same thing. But James was very concerned about the lack of said ring and wasted no time at all in dragging me to a local jewelry shop.

There were cases of rings, all of which looked exactly like the one before. As I already made clear, I'm not that much of a fan of jewelry, specifically engagement, rings, so I just looked at them all noncommittally and gave little shrugs every once and again whenever somebody asked my opinion. The lady behind the counter certainly didn't seem too pleased with me (I'm sure she thought that if I didn't make a decision, we would walk out without making any purchases). So finally, I just pulled James aside and told him to pick something.

"It's going to be shit," he said seriously. But I just shook my head. Anything would be fine. Or at least that's what I told him. Honestly, I wished the whole thing could just happen without _any_ rings.

But I changed my mind when he showed up back at the hotel later that afternoon with a tiny little box.

He looked tired and stressed, so I made up my mind to at least make an effort to be nice. After all, I knew picking out jewelry wasn't at the top of his list of fun things to do. I was looking at photos of different floral bouquets I'd picked up in town, but I pushed them aside when he came in and sat up straight in my chair.

"Okay, let's see it." I even put on a fake excited smile to try and calm his nerves a bit.

But he just swallowed once and then opened up the box. "It's not a diamond," he said needlessly, as I could very well see that it wasn't a diamond. Instead, it was this beautiful blue stone that sparkled up at me. "It's an indicolite," he went on, and I got the feeling that he had no more knowledge of what an indicolite was than I did. "The woman at the shop told me I shouldn't get it. She told me to get a diamond."

He sounded nervous and adorable, and I took my eyes off the ring just long enough to look up and ask, "Why didn't you?"

"Because there were too many," he said. "They all looked the same." I could attest to that. I knew I liked him for a reason. "But this one…" His voice trailed as he carefully picked the ring up and set the box aside. "It's the exact same color as your eyes in the sunlight."

I've always heard those sappy, silly little expressions like, _"My heart stopped," _but up until that second, I don't think I ever experienced it. But it really did feel like my heart literally stopped beating for a second, and I just stared at him in awe. I don't know how he does it- how he manages to be so fucking _perfect _when he needs to be. But regardless, I'm surprised I didn't start sobbing my eyes out right there because I really did feel like I could.

And it got even worse when he said, "I saw it, and I just thought _Katie Blue _right away." He looked down at the ring he was holding between his fingers and then back up at me. "I can go back and get a diamond…"

But he didn't get a chance to say anything else because I grabbed his face and kissed him tightly. And then he slipped that ring on my finger, and, for the second time, I felt as though my heart stopped. Nothing ever felt so right or looked _so _beautiful. And I never felt more in love than I did right there in that second.

And so here we are.

We're, oh, half an hour away from the time slot we've set up with the Greek Ministry official who's supposed to show up and marry us. James is in the shower, running way, way behind schedule. I'm pacing nervously around the hotel suite and glancing out the window every few seconds at the crystal blue water. I sort of feel like I want to throw up, and I can't even tell if it's the good kind of nerves or the bad kind.

I'm about to be _married. _To _James Potter._

Just over a week ago, we weren't even speaking. And now we're going to be _married? _Surely we've both gone completely mental. Rational people don't do this sort of thing. They don't go on holiday and end up in a secret wedding. And normally, I _am _a very rational person if nothing else… But I suppose James has always had a habit of making me do irrational and out of character things. He's got some brainwashing power that comes in the form of slightly too-long hair and big, brown eyes. Those eyes always end up forcing me into things that are against my very nature. And I'm powerless against them, of course. Always have been.

But still. This isn't something as simple as skiving off classes to go for a quick shag in a broom cupboard. This is _marriage. _As in the ultimate, _permanent _commitment. And I honestly have no idea if I'm ready for this.

I hear the shower shut off, and I feel even more nerves start creeping up. The dress I'm wearing suddenly feels too clingy, despite the fact that it's made of flowing cotton. My hair is making my neck too hot, and I have the sudden urge to just pull it up in a ponytail and have done with it. I do nothing, though. I just tap the toe of my sandal nervously against the floor tile and continue looking out at the sea, hoping it will have some sort of magical calming effect on me.

My mind drifts to my mum. She's going to murder me once she finds out. Oh, she'll be thrilled about the James aspect, of course, because status means everything to her, and you can't aim much higher on the status scale than James Potter. But she'll be furious that I robbed her of the chance to plan my wedding (as if she hasn't planned enough of her own) and to be there to see it all play out. I'm her only child after all, and this is her only opportunity to watch her child get married. (Granted, of course, I don't turn out like her and change husbands as often as I change knickers, which, _trust me, _will not happen- I have actually learned something from watching her…) But I still feel bad. Weddings are a big deal for mothers. James's mum has still got two more shots, so maybe she won't be as upset, though that _maybe _is a pretty long shot… Chances are she'll be as furious as my mum.

The bathroom door clicks open behind me, and James comes out half-dressed with sopping wet hair. I turn around and look at him, shaking my head in only mild disbelief.

"What's the matter?" he asks, going over to the closet to get down the shirt he bought yesterday.

"We've got twenty-five minutes, James."

"Yeah?" He doesn't seem to see the urgency in this or the problem his half-there attire and wet hair seem to be posing.

"We're going to be late."

"We'll be fine." He doesn't pay me much attention as he starts buttoning up the shirt and messing with the collar. "They can wait five minutes."

There's one of James's main problems. He's so cavalier about certain things and seems to think that everyone in the world should work on _his _schedule. He's got no problem making people wait or go out of their way to accommodate _him. _It's infuriating.

"You could try being just slightly _unselfish _for once and make an actual effort to meet plans _you _made in the first place," I tell him bitterly. "It wouldn't kill you."

"It's not going to kill _them _to wait a few fucking minutes," he mutters and rolls his eyes as he keeps on with the shirt preparation.

"Everyone in the world shouldn't have to wait on _you." _I don't know why I'm so angry, but it feels easier to just get it out.

"Let's not fight right now," he says sensibly. "Okay?" And then he looks over at me for confirmation, but he stops mid-breath. "Wow," he mumbles. "You look _beautiful…"_

And then I forget to be mad.

I feel my whole body heat up with a flush, and I'm not sure exactly _what _I've got to be modest about, but it's still there. He can make me blush. He can fucking make me _blush._

He stares a few more moments, and then finally I shake my head and shoo him into hurrying up. "We can't be late!" I tell him quickly, and I follow him back into the bathroom to supervise the last of his preparations.

James is very… Well, he takes a lot of time on his appearance. Or at least he does normally. But here in the wind and the sand of a Greek March, there isn't much use in putting too much effort into hair. It's going to be destroyed the second the door's opened, and we both know it. So I just pulled mine half back, and I'll be lucky if James even bothers to dry his.

"You look like you're going to throw up." James makes this observation through a mouthful of toothpaste as he sets to work brushing his teeth and I push myself into a sitting position across from him on the counter.

"You're going to drip all over your clothes," I tell him, reaching up just in time to catch the toothpaste that's somehow missed his gigantic mouth. I wipe his chin and then reach for a towel to wipe my hand, realizing just how disgusting it really is.

"Babe," he catches my hand and gives me the courtesy of spitting before repeating himself. "Babe. What's wrong?"

What's wrong? Where do I start? If I start, I really _will _throw up. James isn't giving up that easily, though, and he just looks at me expectantly.

"I'm just kind of scared," I mumble, shrugging.

"You don't want to do it." It's a statement, not a question. And again, it makes me want to cry.

"Do you think we're too young?" I try to search out his eyes to see where he's really at, but he looks surprisingly serious when he replies.

"I think we're old _enough." _

Twenty-two. Young. Not _that _young. Still young. Oh my god, I'm twenty-two and on my second engagement. I _am _my mother…

"Kate," he sighs just a little bit and moves so that he's directly in front of me. He takes my other hand, too, and looks at them for a second before looking back up. "We can wait if you want. It's okay."

"What do _you _think?"Surely all this cold feet business can't be exclusive to me. James is… _James. _He should be positively shitting himself at the prospect of losing his bachelordom. He's James _Potter _for fuck's sake. Why isn't this freaking him out more?

But it isn't. Or not nearly as much as I would expect. He looks at me straight in the eye and kind of just shrugs a little. "I think that… I'm in love with you. And I think… that it doesn't matter if we wait because that isn't going to change. And I think… I think I finally want to do something right…"

"And this is it?" I raise my eyebrows, touched and terrified all at the time. "Running off and randomly getting married? You think _this _is right?"

"I think I've never done anything in my whole life to deserve you. But I want to change that." He's staring at me so intently that I feel like I might literally pass out. I've always had a real issue with getting oxygen to my brain when his eyes turn darker like that.

I swallow and try to say something, but nothing comes out. James just lets go of one hand and uses it to smoothly push a piece of my hair back into place before letting his hand rest gently against my cheek.

"I want to be better," he says seriously. "And I want you to be there… Things can change so fast, and people are just gone…" His eyes look a little bit wet, but he blinks them clear. "I just don't want to waste anymore time."

"And you really want this?" I ask just to make sure, even though I can barely get the words out. The room seems to be closing in on me, and breathing seems to get more and more difficult with every single second.

He doesn't say anything for a couple of moments, and then he seems to find his voice. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world. And you're the smartest person I know. And you're the only girl I've ever been in love with…" His voice starts wavering slightly, and I can tell he's feeling the weight of the room just like I am. "And if you want to wait…" he shakes his head and gives me a scared sort of smile, "we can wait. But if you don't want to wait, I'm in a hundred percent. Because I know nothing's going to change."

"How do you know?"

He drops his hand from my cheek to the side of my neck and lets it rest there as he looks at me straight on. "Because every single time I look in your eyes, I see things." He says it so seriously and honestly that I wonder if he even realizes how strange and cryptic it sounds. I'm sure he doesn't.

"What things?"

This question, especially, seems to throw him off. And his cheeks heat up just a bit with a tint of red. He's cute when he blushes, even though it takes a _lot _to make him do so. He isn't very shy or humble when it comes to most things. But right now, he looks almost innocent.

"I see everything," he says quietly, and his eyes are locked on mine right as he speaks, which, of course, makes breathing very difficult. "I see the future. Kids… and a house… and my whole _life." _He finishes even more quietly than he began.

And for the second time in as many days, I feel my heart stop.

"James…" I try to speak, to say _something, _but my voice is as good as gone.

"I love you," he says seriously. He speaks slowly and carefully, and his voice quivers just a bit. "And I'm sorry for anything I ever did that hurt you. I'm just…" he swallows. "I'm just not real good at this. But I want to be better. And I swear," he takes in another quick breath, "things'll be good. But it's up to you."

And I believe him.

I can't say anything else right away because I'm too busy kissing him. I somehow get both of cheeks in my hands, and I just kiss him. I'm surprised I don't just die because I'm certainly not positive I'm breathing correctly. But it doesn't matter because I've never felt anything even close to what I'm feeling right at this second. Being in love doesn't even begin to cover it. It's more than that. I don't have any words for it, but I don't need any. I can feel _everything _in the way he's kissing me right now, and I know he can feel it as well. When we're finally forced to break apart, he pulls back just enough to look at me again, and I let my eyes lock on his once more.

"I'm in."

Nothing else needs to be said, and the smile that covers his face is the best reply I could have hoped for. He kisses me again, this time a bit more excitedly and tightly. And instead of being terrified, I feel a total different type of nerves bubbling up inside me. _Excited _ones. I don't want to ever stop kissing him, but he makes a good point when he pulls away again.

"We need to go. We don't want to keep them waiting."

And even though I know he's half taking the piss, I also love him for it. I grab his hand and let him help me slide off the counter. His hair is still half-wet, but it doesn't matter. Nothing else matters right now except for him. And me. And us.

And so _that's _how I go from being a completely single girl to a married woman in just a matter of days.

And I couldn't be happier.

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A/N: Yes, I know it came out of nowhere. But James has always had a tendency to act now and think later. And when hearts are involved, it's easy to get pulled into that mindset… And at least they're happy! (No, I don't condone running off and eloping, but I don't condone a lot of the things in this story!) And I love them anyway, so they deserve some happiness for once instead of just constantly hurting and being hurt all the time. Thanks for reading!


	40. Al, March 15th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 40

**AL**

**March 15****th**

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So I told Rose the truth.

I told her everything that happened the day her dad died. And I told her that it was all my fault. And I told her that I understood if she hated me.

And she just cried.

She's actually the one who came over to my flat. She sent me a message letting me know that she'd be over and that she wanted to talk, and up until the time she actually arrived, I had my mind set that I wasn't going to tell her. Nearly two weeks had passed, and I'd managed to not tell her so far. And I fooled myself into thinking that what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Of course, it was easy not to tell her anything because she didn't _speak _to me for those two weeks.

She was mad at me simply because I told her the news in the first place. She was understandably upset at first notice (who wouldn't be?), so I didn't take anything of what she said personally. But it also didn't make dealing with the _truth _any easier.

Every time I see them- _any _of them- I just feel sick. Rose and her brothers _and_ her mum… Hell, _my _parents. Pretty much my whole fucking family. They're all devastated, and it's all my fault. And I don't know what to do about any of it because it just makes me feel so awful. It's even worse because I know nothing's ever going to change it. Every single time I close my eyes for the rest of my life, I'm going to see it happen. Over and over again. I'm _never _going to get rid of it.

But when Rose showed up, I tried not to think about it. I tried to focus on the fact that we obviously needed to talk and at least work _some _things out. After all, even if she _was _one-percent consumed at the moment by Scorpius and her family, she would need me eventually. And I needed to make sure I could be there.

She looked okay when she Apparated over. I hadn't seen her in a few days, but her eyes were clearer than they'd been, and she didn't look at all as if she'd been crying lately. Her hair was halfway fixed, and she looked pretty normal overall. I half-expected Scorpius to be with her, seeing as how it's pretty apparent that she can't exist for more than a few minutes without having a grip on his hand. It's like she honestly won't let him leave her side for anything more than to go take a piss, and he's so seriously in love with her that he goes along with it. I guess that's a good thing, but it's also kind of weird to watch. Rose has always been _very _independent, but when it comes to Scorpius, that sort of flies out the window. It's no wonder she was so fucked up when they broke up- she acts like she can't _breathe _without him. In fact, I'd be willing to bet money that they're probably going to end up doing something completely idiotic like running off and getting married secretly.

So yeah, I was surprised when she turned up alone.

"Where's Scorpius?" I asked the question straight away as I offered her the tea I'd prepared (I get that from my mum, I don't know, she makes tea for _everything). _

"He's at practice." Rose took the tea and followed me into the sitting room. She blew on it and seemed as if she was trying very hard to be 'normal.'

"Did he go back to Tutshill?" If he did, it was certainly the first I'd heard of it. And I couldn't imagine Rose not running after him.

But he didn't apparently. Not for good anyway. "Just for training. He just goes and comes back home."

Home.

Scorpius's home is _where_ exactly? Last I checked, he had a cottage in Tutshill and a mansion near the Scottish border. Neither of those places are anywhere Rose would ever 'come back' to, so I don't know why she would speak about him doing so unless he's unofficially moved into her mum's house with her.

I didn't ask, and I still don't know the specifics. Somehow, we didn't around to clarifying that particular aspect. It kind of got lost in the shuffle when Rose carried on after just sipping her tea for half a second.

"I'm sorry I got so angry at you." She spits it out, and it sounds exactly the way apologies always sound when they come from Rose- hurried and strained. She isn't exactly a pro when it comes to apologies, so I don't expect much. The fact that she was apologizing at _all _was a major feat all in itself. But all I could think about was how _I _needed to be the one apologizing.

Rose just kept right on going, though, looking down and then back up. "I just… I didn't know what else to do." She frowned and looked even a little bit ashamed, which made me feel about a million times worse.

"Rose, it's… Whatever," I shrugged. I didn't know what to say. "It's fine."

"But it's not," she insisted, and her frown went even deeper. "I didn't have to react like that. And I'm sorry."

And there she went with the apologizing again.

And I couldn't take it anymore.

"I have to tell you something."

I could tell immediately by the look on her face that she knew something was wrong. She could tell from _my _face that I was about to tell her something major. And she didn't want to hear it. But I told her anyway.

I told her the whole story. I told her that her dad was only there because _I _was in trouble. I told her that I made about fifteen different fucked up mistakes. And I told her that the curse that hit her dad was aimed at me. And when I finished, she just put her head in her hands and looked down at the table for a few minutes before finally looking back up with tears in her eyes.

"Why did you tell me that?" she asked quietly, and I could tell she was trying really hard not to cry but was failing miserably.

I didn't know the answer to that question. I just shook my head.

"I thought you should just know…"

"You shouldn't have told me." The tears spilled over. "I didn't want to know that…"

I felt like shit. Worse then than I'd ever felt in my entire life. It was awful. It wasn't the first time I'd ever seen Rose cry. I've seen her cry numerous times over the years, but her tears are usually fake. These weren't fake tears. They were real, _devastated _tears. And I had no idea what to do.

So I just sat there and watched as she cried. And I didn't say anything because I'm a fucking cowardly bastard. And then things got even worse.

A loud popping noise sounded from the back of the flat, and then an all too familiar voice echoed down the corridor as footsteps followed it.

"I thought you were meeting me at five-"

Elisabeth's voice trailed off immediately as she entered the sitting room and stopped in her tracks. She looked first at Rose who was staring back her. Then she looked over at me, and her face clearly read that she didn't know what the hell to do or say. So she just stood there and then tried (and failed) at acting as if nothing was wrong. "Oh, hey, Rose…"

Rose didn't reply right away. She stared at her, her face set in a stony expression as the tears momentarily stopped. The she shook her head slowly. "I knew it…" she mumbled. And then more loudly repeated, "I _knew _it."

At the time, I didn't know exactly _what _she knew, but I was able to make a fairly good guess.

"I can't _believe _you'd do this to me…" I didn't have a clue as to who she was addressing, and it took me a few seconds to realize that she was actually addressing _both _of us.

"Rose-" It was Elisabeth who tried to speak, but Rose glared so hatefully at her that the words froze unspoken.

"You two_," _she spit acidly, "out of _all _the people in the world should _not _lie to me."

It was obvious by that point that she knew exactly what was going on, and none of us needed to clarify that fact. Elisabeth spoke back up, though, and she didn't seem nearly as sick as I did.

"Nobody _lied _to you, Rose."

"Yes, you did!" Rose set her teacup on the side table and stood up then. Her face was an angry red, but at least the tears had stopped. "Not telling me is the same as lying! You're supposed to be my best _friend!_"

"Look, you're obviously upset-"

"Oh, save it," Rose snapped. She glared once more at Elisabeth and then turned the look on me. "I hope you're happy now that your conscience is clear."

She didn't say anything else to either of us. She simply grabbed her wand out of her jacket pocket and Disapparated on the spot.

And then _I _started crying.

I didn't mean to. I hate crying. I especially don't enjoy it when there's female company present. But I couldn't help it. And anyway, it certainly wasn't the first time I'd cried in front of Elisabeth over the past several days. But just like every other time, I felt like a total idiot. She didn't seem to mind, though, and she just hugged me a little bit and then sat down on the sofa with me.

Elisabeth has known the truth since the day after it happened. After I got back from Ireland, I went straight to Elisabeth's, and I told her the whole story. I was a wreck that day, and I fell straight back into that same wreck-mode right after Rose Disapparated then. On top of that, I still felt sick to my stomach and completely and totally helpless.

"I told her," I managed to choke out as I tried desperately to stop the tears. Elisabeth didn't say anything, just nodded sympathetically and rubbed a little circle on my back. "And now she knows about us…"

It occurred to me then that she could very well go and tell the whole world if she wanted. Elisabeth and I could potentially be extremely screwed, but I didn't care. Somehow, I didn't really think she'd do that, but at the same time, she very well could. I didn't know. What she would tell, I had no idea, seeing as I'm still not sure myself exactly what Elisabeth and I are. It started out as something fun and careless, but somewhere along the lines, I think it may have turned into something more. And that sort of scares me, too.

Elisabeth wasn't quite as worried, though. "She'll be fine," she said sensibly.

"She thinks we lied to her."

"We didn't _lie _to her." She frowned and shook her head. "Look," she said slowly, and I got the feeling that she was trying to _not _offend me or something. "I love Rose, okay? But she knows as well as I do that we're _not _best friends." I didn't know what she was talking about at that point, and she could obviously tell because she expanded. "We _used _to be, yeah. But we hardly even speak anymore. I love her to death, but the only time we _ever _talk is when she randomly decides to come home over holiday or something. Then we have to _force _ourselves to even see each other then." She shrugged. "Things change, you know?"

"But we should have told her…"

"She doesn't tell _us _anything," Elisabeth protested rationally. "Or at least not much. You know as well as I do that Rose doesn't have room for much else outside of Scorpius. _He's _her best friend- not you and not me."

That hit home. I guess I didn't think about it like that before then. I knew, of course, that things weren't the same. Growing up, there was never anything I _didn't _tell Rose. She knew all my secrets, and I knew all hers. We stayed that way even past the point of childhood. Even at Hogwarts, we were still _that _close. But things did start to change after Scorpius, especially after they started getting serious. By the time Seventh Year rolled around, Rose and I generally just chatted in passing outside the Common Room and that sort of thing. We didn't sit together in class or meals, as she always only sat with Scorpius, and we didn't spend hours sharing secrets and tiny details of life. Scorpius and I don't get on all that well, so I think that had a bit to do with it. It's not that I _dislike _him so much, but we certainly aren't best mates. Rose always wanted that to happen, and I think when she realized it wasn't going to, she decided she had to choose. And well, you see who she picked.

And when she went to Ireland, things _really _changed.

She started going a bit crazy again. And she was depressed and whiney, and anytime she'd write, the letters would always be just as depressed and whiney. So I ignored a lot of them. We had two different lives. We _have _two different lives. She's got school and Ireland and Scorpius, and I've got work and London and Elisabeth.

Maybe we just don't really need each other anymore.

Maybe people grow up and grow apart, and maybe that's what's happened to Rose and me. And to Rose and Elisabeth. But it doesn't change the fact that I killed her father. That fact still remains, and everything about that night replays in my mind continuously.

And it's driving me positively _mad._

The same night I told Rose the truth was the same night I told Elisabeth I was quitting my job. I'd thought about it nonstop since the second my uncle died, but Elisabeth was the first person to whom I vocalized it. I think Rose's reaction really sealed the deal for me, and it wasn't until she sat crying in my sitting room that I fully made up my mind. Elisabeth didn't say too much. She asked me if I was sure, but she didn't try to talk me out of it. I sort of expected her to, so I was a bit surprised when she didn't. She didn't seem thrilled by the news, but she didn't seem all that shocked, either. She just kissed me and said to make sure I was positive before I did anything.

Well, now I _am _positive. Which is why I show up in Dad's office on Friday afternoon feeling positively ill to my stomach.

He looks surprised to see me, and the first thing I notice is that he looks like he hasn't slept in days. His eyes still have a tint of red to them, and he looks positively exhausted. I haven't been around much since the funeral and have purposely seen my parents as little as possible, simply because I can't stand to see either of them looking so devastated.

Dad's also surprised to see me because it's the middle of the day, and as a rookie, I don't work any normal human hours. I only work god-awful hours in the middle of the night. I show up at one o'clock in the afternoon, so obviously something's up. I'm also dressed in normal street clothes, so I know he knows something's wrong.

"Al," he says, trying to feign a bit of emotion into his voice. "What's up?"

I sit down in one of the chairs across the desk from him and try to think up the most sensible way to make my statement. It's difficult, of course, because it's not exactly a statement that makes tons of sense in the first place. But still, I need to just get it over with.

"I…" I hesitate for a few seconds and swallow a couple of times. Then I just say it. "I quit."

Dad doesn't say anything at first. He stares at me silently for a long, hard moment, and then he takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose. He drops his face into his hand and just sits there for a little while before finally looking back up and replacing his glasses.

"Did you think about this?" he asks, eyeing me in that way that's always done a good job of making me thoroughly uncomfortable.

I nod.

"Al…" He doesn't seem like he knows what he wants to say, and his voice trails off to awkward silence for another few seconds. "Okay, why?"

I don't want to say it. I especially don't want to tell _him. _He's not going to do anything besides be disappointed in me and wonder how he raised such a complete _failure. _I suppose it was bound to happen, though- James is so successful, I was probably just destined to be a loser. But I still don't want to tell Dad any of it.

I have to, though. He's looking at me expectantly, and that look always makes me nervous. I quickly release myself from eye contact at least and look down at the desk. "Because I'm not cut out for this," I say quietly. "I'm not smart enough or brave enough… I'm not good enough."

"So you think that's the way out of things?" Dad's voice sounds a bit harsh, but I still don't look up. I already want to leave anyway. He keeps right on ranting. "You think you just make lists of all your so-called flaws to gain sympathy and then just quit so no one will be upset with you?"

"I didn't-" I look up despite myself, completely caught off by his accusation. He doesn't let me finish, though.

"You just did," he says sharply. "That's the weakest thing I've ever heard."

"Dad, I-"

"I'm not your father right now, I'm your _boss, _and you better give me a damn better reason than _I'm not good enough," _he says the last part in a high-pitched, whiney voice that I guess is supposed to be an imitation of me.

"Rose hates me!" I blurt it out a bit more loudly than I mean to, and I can't believe how quickly everything's turned around and how _angry _he is.

"You think she doesn't have a _right _to?"

He looks at me incredulously, but I'm just dumfounded. Out of all the responses in the world, I wouldn't expect that. I'd expect a more fatherly, _human _response of, oh, I don't know… _'No, she doesn't.'_

Wow.

It takes me a second to get my thoughts back together, and I just look at him for a long moment until I finally quietly reply. "I didn't _mean _forthis to happen."

"I _know _you didn't," he snaps back instantly. "_Everyone _knows that. It doesn't mean people can't be upset."

"Rose _hates _me," I repeat helplessly. I'm going to start crying, I can already feel it. I really, _really _don't want to start crying.

"And she can hate whoever she wants to hate right now," is the reply. Dad looks at me with such _contempt _that I'm not even really sure what's going on. "She's got that right. She hasn't even had time to _process _everything that's happened, so she can hate and be mad all she wants right now."

"But-"

He cuts me off again. "That doesn't give _you _the right to come in here and whine about it."

I just stare at him. I can't believe that _he _hates me so much that he can't even give me a bit of sympathy. I'm his fucking _child!_

"You don't understand," I tell him smartly. "You don't know what it's like to have people look at you like that."

Dad literally _gapes _at me. And then he laughs- _loudly- _a really unamused laugh. "Get out," he says bluntly, standing up and waving me toward the door.

I'm in shock.

"_Dad!"_

"Give me a fucking _break," _he hisses, now staring down at me in a really intimidating kind of way. "Wake up, Al! This is the real world now. You're not a kid anymore, grow up!"

"What are you _talking _about?"

"How can you even sit there and tell me that _I _don't understand?!" he asks hatefully. "Do you have any idea how many people fucking threw themselves in front of curses to save _me? _A hell of a lot more than you can even imagine!"

Oh.

I don't say anything, and I just sit there feeling extremely stupid. I never even thought of that, and I feel like a total arse for saying it now.

Dad doesn't seem to care about my silence, though. He just keeps right on going. "Do you know how many people would still be alive if I'd never been _born? _Get over it, Al. Do you think people make sacrifices for other people so those people can sit there and whine about it and try to act like a victim?! They don't. Grow up, be a man, and don't _ever_ give me some bullshit answer like that again."

Great. I can feel my eyes start to water, and I try really, really hard to keep it together. Apparently my father already thinks I'm a spoilt, whiney baby. The last thing I need to do is give him even more ammunition by crying like a little bitch. I know if I try to say anything, I'm going to lose that battle, though, so I just sit very still and very quiet and say nothing.

"I've got things to do," he finally says gruffly. "I need to know an answer. Are you quitting or no?"

I don't look at him because I know if I make eye contact I'm going to lose it. I sit there for another few seconds and then finally mumble, "Yes."

I don't have to look up to see his reaction. He lets out a huge, loud sigh of exasperation. "Fine," he snaps hatefully, and he pushes a quick button on his desk to buzz the front. "I need somebody in here to draw up resignation papers," he snaps. I feel his eyes on me, but I don't look up. He doesn't bother saying anything else to me, just grabs a few files off his desk and stalks out of the office without another word.

I sit there in shock and wait for whoever is coming to draw up my papers. I feel like the biggest failure in the universe, and I can't even believe that just happened. My _dad _hates me, too. Not only does Rose and probably her whole family, but my own _father _blames me and hates me and thinks I'm a piece of shit.

Did that really just happen?

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A/N: Aww, I'm glad people like James and Kate and were at least happy with that piece. This one is back to the drama. Next up is Hugo. Thanks for reading, please review!


	41. Hugo, March 17th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 41

**HUGO**

**March 17****th**

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Things are going back to normal.

Slowly but surely. Every day brings at least a _bit _of normalcy, and even though things are never going to be _totally _normal, they're not always going to be this weird. And little by little, things are going back to a regular routine.

Mum doesn't spend all day in her room anymore. She's quieter than usual and not totally okay, but she's getting better. It's a good thing, too, because the house was falling apart without her. Rose tried to take over, but she's shit at it. She decided that she and Scorpius would cook and Landon and I should clean. Only problem, of course, is that we're all really bad at all of it. I don't think Scorpius has ever even turned on a stove in his life, and Rose is even worse at cooking than Mum is (which is saying a lot, trust me). Landon is completely useless when it comes to cleaning, and I'm still not used to using magic for household chores, so over all, we suck and the house is a mess. Rose is good at giving orders, though, so at least that part was taken care of.

But it was still nice to have Mum back to actually get things _right _(though the food is still pretty terrible).

She went back to work, too. Not whole days or long hours or anything, but she goes for a little bit at a time. She's right that the rest of the world didn't stop spinning, and life goes on and all that bit. I think it's good that she's back at work because it gives her a decent distraction. She doesn't do well when she has too much time to think, and she's going to have plenty of that soon enough.

I'm leaving back to school, and I'm sure Rose and Scorpius'll take off pretty soon, too. They've got to get back to their lives eventually (though at this point, I'm not sure what or _where _those lives are). But when we're all gone, that'll just leave Mum and Landon. And she'll have _plenty _of time to think then.

Landon's going to take it pretty rough when everyone leaves. I think he got used to having people around, even though he's spent the majority of his life living the life of an only child. He's _really _attached to Scorpius, which is both funny and sad at the same time. It's funny because it's obvious that Scorpius has no idea how to react around kids and is definitely out of his comfort zone. But it's sad because Landon's latched on pretty tightly, and I think he's going to be really upset when Scorpius finally leaves. It's like Scorpius is the big brother Landon never had… Only, he's always had me and never cared that much.

I'm ready to go, and right now, I'm just sitting around waiting for Mum to get back from work. She said she was only going in for a couple of hours to finish up some paperwork that couldn't wait. She should be home any second now. Rose and Scorpius have taken Landon for lunch, so I'm here alone now, and I can't believe how completely _weird _it feels.

I told Mum the truth. Finally. Well, Rose and I told her. I was actually really thankful Rose was around and offered to do most of the talking. I didn't really know how I was supposed to say it, and Rose is much better at the whole confession thing than I am anyway (she's got loads more practice), so I pretty much just sat there and waited until she was finished.

Mum didn't take it as badly as I imagined she would. I thought she'd be furious and angry and really go off her head. She didn't, though. She just sat there and didn't say anything for a few moments and then shook her head. "That was a very nice thing you did for her."

Then she asked me what _I _wanted to do, and I finally admitted that I didn't want to keep on pretending that the baby was mine or have to be responsible for it or anything like. I don't mind _helping _her (if I can), but I'm not ready to be a father, especially to a kid who isn't even mine.

Mum understood, and she said we'd figure it out. She's pretty good at handling big shit like that. She is good at getting people out of messes (must be because she grew up with Dad and Uncle Harry), so she just took some time and worked out a plan. A plan which, of course, included going to see Maria's parents.

I didn't go. I wanted to because I thought I needed to see Maria and explain things. I'd tried writing it all out in letters, but nothing really sounded right, and I couldn't just come right out and tell her I was pulling out of the deal in a note, could I? No.

So I sent my mummy to tell her instead.

Brilliant.

Apparently, though, it went a lot better than I would have imagined. Maria had already told her parents the truth, and Mum said they all acted as though they were expecting it. I'm sure it also didn't hurt that my mum's fairly important in public office or that my dad just died, but no one was rude to her or rude about me or any of it. They just said they'd get it sorted and thanked her for coming over to converse.

And that's that, I suppose.

I mean, obviously we've still got to deal with the public aspect of it, seeing as how the papers are going to love this twist on the story as much as the original story itself. But still, I suppose we'll just cross that bridge when we come to it. You know, in a few months when the baby's actually born. Oh, well, I don't want to think about it now.

I've got enough issues coming up with my return to school. It's been two weeks since I left, and I'm not exactly looking forward to going back. Obviously, I'm not totally smitten with schoolwork in the first place, nor am I overly-excited about going back to a place where everyone is going to stare at me and look at me pityingly. Not to mention, of course, Lily and Amanda and all of that.

It doesn't seem quite fair that I finally told the truth about the baby, but I still have to deal with so much shit. Amanda hates me. But why wouldn't she? I accused her of something without even _trying _to look at other possible scenarios. I've spent days trying to figure out what I'm going to say to her that might even _partially _make up for any of it, but I've come up with nothing. And then there's Lily… I'm trying really hard to get enough courage up to forgive her, but right now, it's just a lot easier to hate her. I'm trying not to, though, because I know that's not what my family's supposed to be about. It's really difficult, though, and so far I'm not very successful.

Speaking of family, Mum shows up right as I start to wonder if she's actually coming at all. She sees all my bag packed and sitting in front of the fireplace. "You're going already?"

I nod. "Yeah, I need to go to the library and try and catch up on some things."

This is a lie. I most certainly will _not _be going to the library. The reason I want to leave now is because most people will be out of the Common Room and off to various other parts of the castle and grounds. That means I'll have to deal with less people staring at me like I'm some sort of freak. And obviously, it's always best to avoid such staring if at all possible. Mum doesn't need to know this, though, because that concern will make her worry. Also, the library is always a good excuse with her. She's certainly not going to do anything to hold me back from there.

"I should have come earlier," she says regretfully. "We could have had lunch."

"It's fine," I tell her, wishing she wouldn't worry so much.

"I can make you something," she pushes on. "It won't take long."

"I'm fine," I tell her again. And then, another lie. "I already ate."

She looks worried and frowns. Her forehead's got a distinct crinkle down the center that wasn't there two weeks ago. Other than that, though, most of her outward appearance is the same. She just looks really tired, and her eyes are pretty dull.

"Are you sure you're ready to go back?"

No, I'm not sure. I don't feel ready at all. I don't want to go back and have everyone stare at me even more than they already do. I don't want to go back and hear people's insincere well-wishes or see them look at me so pityingly. I wish I could just go sit my NEWTs and have done with it. I can't, of course, as there's absolutely no way in hell I'd ever pass them at this point. Oh, well, it's nice to dream.

"I'm okay," I assure her, knowing she needs to hear it as much as I need to _believe _it.

Mum nods and doesn't say anything more even though I can tell she's literally having to bite her tongue. "Be careful, okay?" she urges quietly. It's something she's taken to saying every time somebody leaves. I don't even know if she realizes she's doing it, but I appease her nonetheless.

"I will."

"And call me if you need me," she goes on. "You can come home if you want."

This isn't true. She may not want me to go right this second, but she's certainly never going to allow me to just leave school until I'm fully finished. It's a nice sentiment, though, so I leave it at that and just nod.

Mum looks at me sadly and then opens her arms up. I hug her and let her hang on a bit too tightly. I don't complain or try to duck away when she pets my hair. She needs to hang onto whatever she can, and if right now, that's me, then I'll let her.

Finally, after what seems like an hour, she pulls back and holds me at arm's length. "I love you," she says seriously, and I just duck my head and nod.

"I love you, too."

"And everything's going to be okay," she promises, though, of course, she has no way of knowing this. I don't point that out, though. It's nice of her to at least offer me that reassurance. "We'll take care of everything."

I just nod again.

She hesitates for a long second and then sighs a little. "Just be careful, Hugo," she tells me again seriously.

"I will."

And then Mum nods and tries to put on a brave smile, though it doesn't come close to reaching her eyes. We say our goodbyes, and then I step into the fire and head back to Hogwarts and back to the life I left two weeks ago when things were relatively normal (save the whole baby thing, of course).

Neville's there in his office when I arrive, and he smiles at me and tries to be polite. It's weird, though, because I know whenever he looks at me, all he see is Amanda and what a jerk I was to her. He fills me in on a couple of small details and changes that have occurred while I was gone, and then he sends me on my way.

I was right about the Common Room being mostly empty. There're only a few people, mostly younger students, milling around. They all stare at me, just like I knew they would, but no one says anything or approaches me with any sort of forced sympathy. I like silence much better anyway.

First things first, I want to get settled back into the dorm, get my things unpacked, and maybe just sit there alone for awhile to try and gather my thoughts together a bit. I bypass the small group of students who are congregating in the Common Room and head instead for the stairwell. I don't want to talk to anyone right now anyway.

Of course, fate has a way of kicking me in the nuts, so I naturally run straight into the one person I sincerely hoped to avoid until well after graduation.

Amanda's in the corridor, her books spread out over the lower steps in the girls' stairwell. She's always said this was her favorite place to study because it isn't as loud as the Common Room and isn't as stuffy as the library. She especially likes to stake it out during hours of the day when there isn't much traffic going up and down from the dormitories. And, of course, I run straight into her.

She sees me before I even have a chance to do something stupid like try to hide. I don't know exactly where I'd go anyway, seeing as how there aren't many places to go besides up the stairs. And since the entrance to the boys' stairwell is directly beside the girls', hiding would be pretty pointless.

I don't know what to say to her because I know anything I say is going to sound lame and stupid. I know she knows the truth about Lily, too, because the entire school apparently knows. I guess Roxanne made damn sure of that. So since I haven't got anything _coherent _to say, I just mumble, "Hey."

"You're back." She makes the observation dully and barely lifts her eyes from her text, though I can tell she's trying really hard to act a lot more normal than she feels.

"Just now." I don't know what else to say, and the silence hangs heavily around us. Amanda goes right on revising, and I wonder if I should just leave it and head upstairs or if I should try to be a man and say something along the lines of an apology.

I don't have to, though, because she interrupts my thoughts. "I'm sorry about your dad." Again, she doesn't look up at me, but I can tell from her voice that she's being sincere. It makes me feel that much worse.

"You didn't come to the funeral." It's my own observation. It's something I noticed right away and have tried desperately not to fixate on since. I haven't been extremely successful.

"You didn't want me there."

"I did," I answer immediately, and finally, she looks up. Her eyes are darker than usual, and they catch me off-guard. I repeat myself, but this time, it's much quieter and more nervous. "I did…"

Amanda doesn't say anything. I don't know if she believes me or not, but she just looks at me with dark blue eyes and a very serious expression. Her blonde hair is piled high at the back of her head into a messy bun of sorts, and she doesn't exactly look like a person who wants to be interrupted.

"My dad really liked you," I cover up lamely. I don't know what I'm doing, and this certainly isn't following any of the hundreds of scripts I've written in my head over the past couple of weeks.

"I'm sorry," she repeats again, and her voice is low and emotionless. "I can't imagine what it's like."

Of course she can't. Both of her parents are alive and well. Her dad is maybe a few hundred feet away at most. She can go to him any time she wants to at any hour of the day. He tells her goodnight every single night, and he's always there if she ever needs him for anything. _My _dad is dead. _My _dad will never tell me or anyone else goodnight ever again. He's never going to be there when I need him to tell me what to do. He's never going to be there for Rose or for Landon or for Mum. He's never going to be there for_ anyone _because he's _dead. _So _no, _she can't imagine.

I don't say any of this.

"Thanks," I mutter.

Amanda stares at me, and I know she's waiting on me to say something profound that's going to change everything and wipe all the shit away. I also know that _she _knows that'll never happen. I don't have profound words like that resting in my brain. I don't know _anything _that'll wipe any part of the shit away. I'm completely useless, and she knows it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask it without thinking. It's the most automatic reaction because it's the only question I've been able to formulate ever since this whole mess started. "You should have told me."

But Amanda just raises her eyebrows. "Why?" she asks coolly. "What difference would it have made?"

She knows what I'm referring to. She knows I'm asking why she didn't just _tell _me that she didn't send that to the papers. I can't understand it.

"I would have believed you."

"If you trusted me, you never would have believed it in the first place."

Wow.

I've always heard that words can cut you and slice at you like a knife, but I guess I never really understood the expression. Now, though, I know exactly what it means. Amanda's words feel as sharp as any blade as they ring in my ears. I have no response because what do you say to that? I can't tell her that it's not true because obviously it _is _true. I believed it, didn't I? I read the words and believed them blindly without any sort of proof.

"Amanda…" I feel my neck heating up, and I really just want to go upstairs and kill myself. Or, you know, hide out for the rest of the term. At the very least.

"It doesn't matter, Hugo," she says flatly. She doesn't even sound angry. She just sounds tired. "Everyone knows now."

"I know…" I don't know what else to say. I'm just ashamed.

"And Lily's on the verge of a mental breakdown."

"Fuck Lily." It's out before I know it, but I don't care. It's the perfect sentiment to express my feelings at the moment.

Amanda doesn't seem quite as eager to share my reaction, though. She looks past me at the wall behind my head. "That's your cousin."

She's right, of course. But it doesn't change anything. If my cousin's an evil, malicious cunt, then that's exactly what she is. It doesn't mean she can't be called on it. But I don't say this. Amanda's eyes are drifting away from the wall and down to the floor.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out, and I'm not talking about Lily.

She doesn't say anything, and she doesn't look at me. I feel like shit, and I really just want to go to bed.

"I wish you would've come," I tell her quietly. "I need you to be there."

"And I needed _you_ to trust me." She starts gathering up her books and stands up.

"I'm sorry!" I feel a bit desperate and know I must look like a pathetic twat. I don't even care, though. What does any of it matter now? "I made a mistake… You're my best friend!"

She stops, and her eyes are sort of wet. She isn't crying, though, and I don't think she will, either. "And that's _all _I am," she says quietly. "It's not going to be anything else."

I know what she's saying. Whatever _might _have happened before isn't going to happen now. I can't blame her. I can't even be too upset by it. I don't even think I care all that much if it's anything else. I'm not looking for anything else right now. I realize how weird that sounds and how completely _abnormal _it is for a seventeen year old boy to say something like that, but it's the truth.

I just want a friend.

It's dumb because I'm not _un_popular. I get on just fine with the other guys in my Year, and I've got plenty of "friends," but Amanda's the only one I've ever really trusted. I'm not as smart as my sister, but I am more observant than she is. I know that the only reason half the people who claim to be my friend even talk to me is because they think it's cool to associate themselves with "famous" people. Of course, _I'm _not famous, but my parents are obviously very well-known, and that makes me important by proxy. I don't think Rose ever fully got that, or maybe she did and just didn't care. Either way, she always had a much larger group of mates that she actually seemed to trust than I ever have.

But Amanda is somebody I've known for as long as I can remember. I trust her as much as I trust anyone in my family (which apparently should not be very much). But I know she's not somebody who just wants to hang out with me because my mum's the Minister of Magic or they think I might help them meet Harry Potter. So it makes no sense why I didn't trust her when I needed to most.

"I'm really sorry," I tell her again, this time even more quietly. She's staring at me with a look that's not anger and not sadness. It's something in between. Regret maybe.

She's too nice. She has every right in the world to curse me or hate me, but she doesn't. Instead, _she _apologizes, too. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." She stops for a second and chews on her lip nervously. "I really didn't think you wanted me there…"

"I did," I tell her honestly. It's the truth. I wanted her there more than I wanted anyone. I stupidly kept looking around and hoping she'd show up, but she never did. It was even worse when her parents were around because I know how awkward everything must have felt to them as well. They are really good friends with my mum, but they probably think I'm a complete dick. And her dad and my dad got in a fight back when all of this started. I don't know if they ever even made up from that or not. But still, more than anything, I just wanted Amanda to show up. Even for just a little while. "I really did."

Then she just does something really out of character and surprising. She hugs me. She isn't normally a very huggy-type of person, but it doesn't feel weird at all. With as many people who have hugged me over the past couple of weeks, I'm pretty much a pro at not being weirded out. But this one is different, and I really feel like it _means _something. And I feel my eyes water up before I can even stop them. I don't let myself cry, though.

"I don't know why you don't hate me," I mumble numbly over her shoulder.

And Amanda just sighs and then finally pulls back. "Because you're the nicest person I know," she says bluntly. "And I know you'd take it back if you could."

She isn't smiling at me, and she doesn't seem overly-pleased. But she's being honest. She knows that I wouldn't ever _purposely _hurt her. It was a mistake, and even if it was the fucking hugest mistake I could have made, it was still a mistake. And she can give me this one.

Things aren't normal, and she doesn't fully forgive me one-hundred percent yet. But at least we're talking, which is saying something. It may not be _everything, _but at least it's _something._

And maybe things will actually be okay.

Eventually.

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A/N: Well, I was pleasantly surprised with the reaction I got on the last chapter. I wrote it thinking that more people would be upset with Harry for being insensitive, but I was glad to see that the reactions were pretty split. Not everyone thinks he's a jerk, but not everyone thinks he was well-justified. I'm glad to get mixed emotions out of people!

This one isn't _quite _as angsty, and I know it might seem like a bit of a cop out that Amanda isn't angrier. If it seems that way, it's probably my fault because I haven't fleshed Amanda out as well as I should have. But she knows Hugo and knows that he doesn't deserve any of the bad stuff that's following him around lately. And she's too nice (at least when it comes to him) to intentionally add even more salt to the wound.

Thanks for reading, please review!

(James is next!)


	42. James, March 20th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 42

**JAMES**

**March 20****th**

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Well. The honeymoon's certainly over.

Not as far as Kate goes, of course, because _that's _about as perfect as it's possible to be. No, all of that's great. She's great. We're great. It's great.

But that's about where the greatness ends.

We only got to spend about a week in Greece before we had to come back. Kate insisted that she was going to get fired if she didn't go back, and she wouldn't even entertain me when I told her it didn't matter. She doesn't seem to care that she doesn't _have _to work. I tried to tell her that she could do whatever she wanted and that she never had to even stop foot back into Gringotts. She pretended not to hear me.

It didn't matter anyway because I had to go back to work, too. It says a lot that I was able to just take off like that in the first place. I've got more leeway than most people, but I still have contractual obligations. Many multiple _million _contractual obligations. And some of those involve actually showing up for training sessions. We haven't had the _best _season, but it hasn't been the _worst. _I don't foresee any championships in our future this year, but we're at least trying to finish the season out strong. We'll see, though.

Anyway, the full reality of the situation hit us when we got back to England. For one, we realized that we had _two _flats and that neither of us were too keen to give our individual ones up. She said that mine was "pretentious," and I said hers was "small." And neither of us appreciated the other's comments too much. But then we decided to compromise. We'd keep _both _for the time being and just stay wherever we fancied at the moment. And we'd actively look for a new place- a place that would _really _be ours. And that was the end of that.

But it was just the beginning of everything else.

We knew, of course, that the secrecy we momentarily purchased in Greece wouldn't last long once we got home. Besides the obvious gossip that was going to start swirling at any second, there was the simple _legality _of it. Marriages have to be registered. Licenses have to be validated. Foreign weddings have to be recorded. And all of _that _happens through the Ministry of Magic, and since my aunt happens to be the Minister of Magic, it was certainly only a matter of time before the news broke.

So we did what any normal, _mature _adults would do- we called a family dinner and broke the news.

We told her family first because we figured the second mine found out, the news would spread all over within hours, and Kate wanted to actually _tell _her mother instead of letting her read it in a special edition of _The Daily Prophet. _So we got a dinner together and called her mum and step-dad over. Her step-dad didn't seem too fussed either way, but that's not really too surprising, seeing as how he's only been around for a little while. Her mum, though, went _mental._

Kate predicted she would. She said that she was going to flip out once she realized that she didn't get to plan a wedding, and she was right. Thankfully, Kate knows her mum well enough to know how to superficially please her, and all she had to do was flash a couple of expensive earrings (bought specifically for the dinner), and her mum calmed down a bit. Honestly, I've met her mum two, maybe three times, in my whole life, so I don't know her too well at all. I suppose she likes me, though… Or at least she likes my money.

But Kate's family was the easy part. My own parents would not be as easily distracted by shiny objects. In fact, my mum would be likely to rip those earrings out of her lobes (not really, but you get the picture). So we leave the jewelry and the whole showy bit at home and show up at my parents' house for a normal Wednesday night dinner. No one's there, of course, besides Mum and Dad because Lily is obviously back in school and Al is apparently playing the avoidance card following his Auror resignation. The only other usual visitor to family dinner would be Teddy, and he's been pretty much completely MIA for the past several months.

So it's just the four of us.

Mum's made chicken and dressed it up with several vegetables that I'm sure Grandmum pushed on her from the garden. It's a decent enough meal, though I'm certainly not focused too much on the food at this point. Mum knew I was bringing Kate, and she assumes (I imagine) that we must have got back together, hence the Greece trip. My parents didn't _really _know that we were even seeing each other before, considering the fact that that particular relationship had to be kept a secret due to Kate's other _imaginary _secret. But they both know I'm mental over her, so I'm sure neither was particularly surprised when I said I was bringing her over.

She knows my parents _semi-_well. She's met them a few times, and she's always got on well with them. She takes care of their account at Gringotts, too, so they've been able to get to know her a bit better in the last few months. I think they both really like her, which is obviously helpful, but it certainly doesn't seem to matter when we break the news.

I just say it, flat out, like it's no big deal. "Well, we got married in Greece…"

The reaction is what I might have expected had I taken the time to actually imagine a scenario. As it is, though, I didn't, so I don't really have any idea what to expect. What _actually _happens, though, will always be ingrained in my head I'm sure.

Dad downs the rest of his drink one gulp and then sits his empty glass down and says absolutely nothing. Mum stares at me as if I'm speaking Japanese or some other crazy foreign language that she doesn't understand, and then she balls her hand into a fist so tightly that I literally watch her knuckles turn white.

"I can't do this anymore," she says edgily, her voice flat and forcibly calm. She grimaces so tightly that I think her teeth my crack out of her skull, and her face turns as white as her knuckles as she, too, turns up her drink and downs it. "I just… I'm not."

She may momentarily be at a loss for words, but it doesn't take long for her to find them again as she pushes her seat back from the dining room table and carries her plate into the kitchen. Dad follows her, shooting me a quick glance that says absolutely nothing. And then Kate and I sit there as the blowup in the kitchen begins.

"_Every single one of them! Every single one is absolutely off their head insane!"_

"_What did we do wrong?!"_

"_What is he thinking?! Doesn't he realize that he's an idiot?!"_

All of these are statements we hear my mum shout from the other room. Occasionally, we hear Dad try to break in with a word or two of reason, but she certainly doesn't want to hear any of it. He keeps trying to calm her down, which, honestly, surprises me a little bit because in situations like this, it's generally Dad who's shouting at me and Mum who's taking up for me. That certainly isn't the case tonight, though.

Kate looks over at me with raised eyebrows, and I just shrug wordlessly. I don't know what's going to happen or what Mum is going to end up doing. I think about grabbing Kate's hand and just getting the hell out of there, but I'm sure that would just make things worse in the end. So we just sit there.

And then finally Mum comes back out.

She has a hysterical sort of look on her face as she stands by the table with a fresh glass of firewhiskey and crosses and uncrosses her arms several times as she searches around for the right words. Finally, she lets out a cold little laugh and then shakes her head.

"What the _hell _is wrong with you?"

She asks the question slowly and directs it straight to me. I just look back at her blankly and try very hard to feign stupidity.

"Do you realize- no offense," she adds quickly at Kate in a voice that indicates she's definitely about to say something _extremely _offensive, "that you've just signed away half of _everything _you own? Just because you got some mentally-challenged bug up your arse?!"

I stare at her. I don't _really _believe she actually said it until it echoes in my head three or four times. Kate's gaping at her- mouth open and everything. Dad looks like he wants to die. And Mum looks both thoroughly pissed _and _pissed _off. _

"And what are you _thinking? _You don't even _know _this girl! No offense," she quickly slips in again, barely even glancing at Kate.

I do, however, look over at Kate, and the look on her face is enough to make me say something. "I've known her since I was eleven years old."

"You still _act _like you're eleven years old!" she cries, apparently completely outraged.

I don't know even what's going on. Mum seriously looks like she's about to murder someone, and I can't even believe it. I mean, I didn't think she'd be turning _backflips, _but I didn't expect her to fly straight off the handle like this.

"Is she pregnant?" she asks bluntly, and her gaze goes straight over to Kate who shifts around uncomfortably in her seat. "Because that's a stupid reason to get married."

"She's not pregnant!" My mouth's open in shock as well.

Mum narrows her eyes at me, and I can tell she doesn't believe. Finally, she downs the rest of her drink and then shakes her head. "It doesn't matter anyway," she says briskly. "This isn't going to happen."

She turns around and stalks straight out of the dining room toward the sitting room. Dad goes straight after her, and I sit for just a few seconds before finally jumping up as well. I motion Kate to follow me, and we go into the other room where Dad's got a hand to his forehead and Mum's got her head in the fire.

"You need to come over here _now," _she orders, and I don't have to long to see who's she's speaking with because Aunt Hermione shows up a just a few seconds later.

She looks confused and a little bit exhausted. She glances around at all of us and then looks back at Mum questioningly.

"Do you know what your _godson's _done?" Mum asks snidely, and she says the word 'godson' as though it's some sort of swear.

My aunt looks over at me, and she looks even more confused now. Hell, I'm confused, too. I don't know why Mum's insisted she come over, but while she's here, I may as well answer the unasked question. I glance over at Kate and then look back. "We're married," I say, wondering if I'm about to receive yet _another _gigantic blowup.

Aunt Hermione, though, just stares at me wordlessly for a few seconds, and then her brow creases a bit. "Oh," she says, and she sounds absent and lost. "Congratulations…" It sounds like maybe she _wants _it to be sincere, but I won't lie and pretend like it isn't totally weak and forced.

Still, though, I manage a half-grateful smile. "Thanks."

Mum, on the other hand, is outraged. "Don't congratulate them!" she snaps instantly.

Aunt Hermione just raises her eyebrows at her. "Why not?"

"You don't congratulate _stupidity!"_

I can't _believe _this is happening. Kate looks mortified, and I _feel _mortified. This is definitely not the impression I want her to have of my family.

"Ginny-" Dad tries to say something, but Mum absolutely doesn't even give him an opportunity. Instead, she blathers right on to my aunt.

"It doesn't matter anyway. They got married in Greece. It's not even legal." She says it all matter-of-factly and pointedly, but all the rest of us just look at each other. It's Aunt Hermione who answers her.

"That doesn't make it _illegal."_

Mum just shrugs disinterestedly as though she hasn't got a care in the world. "It's not _recognized_ until someone in _your _officesigns it," she pipes smartly. "And that's not going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Because you won't let it!" Mum says exasperatedly. "Surely you can't think this is a good idea! They're too young!"

But Aunt Hermione looks confused and slightly annoyed. I imagine she isn't exactly pleased with the fact that Mum called her over here on the spur of the moment. "Ginny, they're adults," she says calmly. "They can get married if they want."

But Mum looks positively insane by this point. "They're _twenty-two! _That's not old enough to be married!"

"You were twenty-two when _you_ got married."

And there it is.

The words hang in the air, and silence hovers around them for several long, shocked seconds. I'm glad Aunt Hermione said it before I had to. The thought occurred to me several minutes ago, but I've done my best to keep it contained. Somehow (and apparently I was right), I didn't think it'd be the safest observation to make.

Mum stares at her in shock, and then shakes her head. "Right. And you see how well _that _turned out," she says bitterly.

I don't think anyone expected _that _reaction, and Dad looks like he's been slapped in the face. I have to admit, that was pretty harsh… Mum, though, doesn't seem to care that she's just insulted her husband and her marriage in front of company. She goes right on and proceeds to insult _me _as well.

"You want to know what happens when you have a baby when you're twenty-two?" she asks incredulously. "It turns into _that!" _

She motions wildly at me, and my mouth drops open in shock for just a split second before I exclaim, "She's not pregnant!" at the exact same moment Kate spoke up for the first time, "I'm not pregnant!"

Mum doesn't care about _that, _either. She just keeps right on raging. "You're too _young!"_

We've all got deep, dark secrets. Some of them are bigger than others, but there's something in all of us that we don't like admitting or saying out loud.

Mum's deep, dark secret?

She secretly blames me for ruining her life.

_Did _I ruin her life? I dunno. I suppose it's all relative. I mean, I've certainly ruined plenty of other women's lives since then, so maybe it's just a naturally ingrained talent of mine. A skill I've been honing since birth- hell, since conception. Regardless, it's the truth.

See, the thing is Mum blames me for the loss of everything she _could _have had but didn't. When she was twenty-two, she was a professional Quidditch player, too, just like me. The only difference, of course, is that she got knocked up and had to quit, whereas the chances of _myself _becoming unexpectedly impregnated are about negative one million percent. But, you know, one mistake, and she instantly went from having a glamorous and successful Quidditch career that she loved to trying (and failing) to plan an impromptu wedding before the whole world found out she was pregnant with a bastard child.

But it's not my fault, is it? I mean, I didn't _ask _to be born. I didn't even have anything to do with it. And Mum knows that- that's why it's a deep, dark secret and not something she shouts from the rooftops. It doesn't make it any better.

Aunt Hermione seems to realize exactly what's on the verge of happening, and she has enough sense to realize that if Mum actually loses her cool and comes out and _says _something like that out loud that she's never going to be able to take it back. So she steps in and tries to veer the conversation away.

"Bring your license in tomorrow," she tells Kate and me calmly. "We'll get everything taken care of."

Mum is close to hysterics, and she goes off the bloody deep end. "What would you do if it were Rose?!" she demands angrily, glaring at my aunt like _she's _the one who's just run off and got married.

Aunt Hermione, though, remains calm. "I'd be happy for her."

Mum snorts and rolls her eyes. "Oh, you would not," she sneers. "You'd be happy if your daughter showed up and told she's married?"

"Yes. She's in love. If it made _her _happy, _I'd _be happy."

My mother is drunk. She must have downed four full glasses of alcohol between the time dinner began and now, and she's definitely showing the effects of it. "Your daughter's going to be a _Malfoy!"_

I'm nowhere near stupid enough or oblivious to think that this isn't a big deal. In fact, I still have vivid memories of the exact moment everyone found out that dear, sweet Rosie was having it off with the son of Public Enemy Number One. It wasn't pretty (a bit amusing, but not pretty). No matter what anyone says or how _different _Scorpius may be, none of that changes his surname. And that's a pretty big obstacle to get past.

Aunt Hermione, though, seems determined to keep her cool. "So?" she asks, raising her eyebrows just slightly.

And Mum laughs again, a cruel, mean kind of laugh. "Oh, you're going to lose it when that happens, and you fucking know it," she spits out.

"You don't know Scorpius," Aunt Hermione says, her voice eerily calm and edgy all at once. She seems to be struggling greatly to keep her demeanor. "Don't assume you know anything _about _him."

"I know you can't stand it," Mum sneers. "And I know Ron couldn't stand it." Everyone in the room tenses at the name. "And I know it's _killing _you having to pretend like you're okay with it."

"He loves my daughter, and she loves him. And that's all that matters." The eerie calmness is gone, and a bitter snappiness has replaced it.

"Yeah," Mum rolls her eyes again. "Until Lucius Malfoy gets his hands on them…"

"Ginny, stop." Dad finally speaks up, and Mum snaps her head around to glare at him.

"Don't you tell me what to do!" she hisses. Then she turns back to Aunt Hermione. I get the distinct impression that they've all forgotten that Kate and I are even in the room. "You know what? Maybe I _am _overreacting. I mean, all of my kids might be fucking _idiots," _(she's either forgot I'm in the room or is just plain evil), "but at least none of them are dumb enough to go mixing themselves up with the Malfoys."

My aunt's face is very red, and she seems to be attempting to grind her teeth to dust. "Don't talk about my daughter, Ginny," she says with as much forced control as she can muster.

Mum tosses her hair over her shoulder and crosses her arms, standing up a bit straighter. "Well, you've got to admit, as smart as that girl is, she _does _do some really _stupid _things."

That's it. Aunt Hermione snaps then, and all hints of self-control are gone. The words that fly out of her mouth next are laced with bitterness and hatefulness. "Okay, let's talk about _your _daughter and what she did to my son! Or have you forgotten?"

"Hermione-" It's Dad again, but he's shut down a second time.

"Oh, shut up, Harry," she snaps, turning her glare only momentarily away from my mother.

He seems fed up, though, and he, too, loses it for a second. "Both of you," he shouts out of nowhere, "just fucking _stop!"_

There's silence for maybe ten seconds, and then Mum goes off again, this time on Dad. "This is _your _fault," she accuses blindly.

Dad just blinks, and then shakes his head a bit. "This is _my_ fault? Okay, Ginny. Tell us all how this is _my _fault."

She doesn't hesitate in fulfilling his request. "You never gave two _shits _about him! You spent his whole running off to _be _Harry fucking Potter and left me there to do everything by myself! And now look," she throws her hands in the air. "Like father, like son! He's run off and found himself some naïve little girl so that he can parade her around and ruin her life!"

"I am in the fucking _room!" _I shout, finally just completely fed up. They all stop for a second and look at me. I know I must look insane, but what the fuck do they expect? Are they _serious _with this? They're talking about me as if I'm not even here, saying horrible things at that! Kate is standing just a couple of feet away from me, and she looks more uncomfortable than I've ever seen her look. In fact, she looks positively terrified.

The moment of silence ends when Mum notices her, too.

"Enjoy it now, sweetie," she says sarcastically, and Kate looks like she wants to disappear. "Because soon enough you're going to be spending all your time changing nappies and cleaning up after people. That's going to be your _whole_ life!"

Three responses come at once.

"Leave her alone!" -Me.

"If you're so bloody unhappy, what are you still doing here?!" -Dad.

"Ginny, you're drunk, and you need to shut up." -Aunt Hermione.

Mum hesitates for a second as she decides who to address first. She settles on Aunt Hermione whose momentary loss of control has now been regained. In fact, she stands perfectly still and silent as Mum starts off on a tirade that, honestly, should make her a fair target for cursing.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Hermione," she spews sarcastically. "I'm sorry if I'm upsetting you. I know that's the most unforgiveable sin in the world, isn't it?" She snarls her nose a little bit and narrows her eyes. "I forgot that you're the only person who's allowed to be upset. Oh, and you, too," she adds carelessly at Dad. "Certainly not me. I mean, it's not like he was _my fucking brother!"_

I don't know where that came from or how we even got to that topic. It doesn't matter, though, because apparently Mum's got weeks (maybe _years) _of repressed emotion built up that's bursting free rapidly.

Aunt Hermione just blinks at her words. And then she closes her eyes and speaks slowly. "Ginny, you really need to stop." Her words seem more forced and difficult than any words I've ever heard.

"Let's go." Kate's at my ear and whispering. Her voice sounds half-panicked/half-devastated. She laces her fingers through mine, but I can't do anything besides stare dumbfounded at the scene in front of me.

"I'm sorry for being upset," Mum says hatefully. "I know it's not acceptable! That much is plenty clear, considering the fact that not one _person _has asked me how _I _am. It's nothing to do with _me. _I haven't got any right to be upset!"

Aunt Hermione's going to start crying. Her eyes are tearing up, and it's very obvious that she's making a full effort to stay as composed as humanly possible. But this is clearly not a conversation she wants to have at the moment, and who can blame her. I almost step in and say something, but Dad cuts me off before I can begin.

"Stop it," he tells Mum seriously. "This isn't the time."

Mum just glares at him, more evilly than I've ever seen her do. I've seen my parents fight _loads _of times, but this is the coldest I've ever seen them be. Mum's voice is low and nasty when she speaks again, and she looks between Dad and Aunt Hermione icily.

"You two should just go fuck each other. Now you've finally got the chance, I'm sure it'd make you both a hell of a lot happier."

She stalks off after that without another word to anybody. The sound of a door slamming from down the hallway is the only noise for a very long, uncomfortable minute. No one says anything, and no one looks at anyone. Finally, Dad and Aunt Hermione look at each other and have some sort of insane silent conversation. He obviously asks her something that only she can understand, and she just shakes her head in response. He leaves then and follows Mum.

Aunt Hermione looks over at us then. She still looks like she's about to cry, but she doesn't. "Come by tomorrow," she says quietly. "I'll sign your papers."

She Disapparates without saying goodbye, and then Kate and I are left all alone in the sitting room. I'm stunned, literally stunned. I can't believe what's just happened, and on top of that, I'm absolutely _mortified _that it all happened in front of Kate. The first official time I ever have her over, and _this _happens…

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, not able to even meet her eye because I'm so embarrassed.

She's still got my hand in one of her own, and she moves in front of me to wrap her free arm around my waist. "Let's go home," she says gently, not bringing up the fiasco that we both just witnessed. Eventually we'll have to talk about it, but right now, I just want to pretend like it never happened. Kate knows that.

And that's why I love her.

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A/N: Well, you guys knew the fluff couldn't last for too long! I know everyone's going to think Ginny's a huge bitch after this one, but I kind of feel sorry for her. Of course, I have a tendency to feel sorry for all of them, so… Haha, thanks for reading, please review!


	43. Ministry of Magic, March 22nd

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 43

**MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

**March 22****nd**

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They didn't speak for two days.

She slept in Lily's room, and he spent the night kipping on the sofa. They both avoided the bedroom because neither wanted to be the one to force the other out. It didn't matter anyway, he figured as he twisted uncomfortably under his little blanket, because neither of them would actually be _sleeping _anyhow.

James did not return. He didn't call or drop by or anything. He stayed away, and Harry didn't really think he could blame him too much. After all, the effects of Wednesday evening would be felt for a long time, and James certainly got his fair share of it. Harry felt bad, honestly, when he tried to put himself in his son's place because he couldn't fully imagine what it must be like to hear your parents argue like that and say some of those things. Of course, he couldn't fully imagine a lot of things when it came to parents, and he, once again, realized that growing up with no example had really fucked him up.

Sometimes when he thought about it, he didn't think he ever had a chance in hell. He was destined to be a shit father straight from the start. He should have just given into it- after all, his so-called 'destiny' had been controlling him his entire life. He didn't know why he'd bothered thinking that marriage and fatherhood would be any different. He was as preordained to become 'Shit Father' and 'Shit Husband' as he was to become 'The Boy Who Lived' or 'The Chosen One.'

He hated destiny.

Mostly, though, he hated himself. He hated himself for being so useless that he'd somehow managed to spend twenty-two years making another human being as miserable as Ginny seemed to be. He hated himself for being such a bad parent that he'd raised children who believed it was acceptable to 1) run about and make rash, thoughtless decisions; 2) quit things and give up without ever even really trying; and 3) publicly humiliate people close to you for retribution from a simple argument.

And that was just this month.

He loved his kids, contrary to what seemed to be the popular belief of both them and his wife. Everything he'd ever done, he'd honestly thought was the right thing to do. At least at the time. Hindsight is always 20/20, though, so he knew perfectly well there was no point dwelling on it. If life had taught him anything, it was that the past couldn't be redone (not without the help of a Time Turner anyway, which he'd given up for good when he was thirteen years old).

But when he was twenty-three and Ginny said she was pregnant, he didn't know what else to do besides marry her. It seemed like the right thing to do, and it was _certainly _the only way any of her brothers would have let him continue breathing. Her mother had also told them it was the 'only' choice. And they were young enough to believe it.

Truthfully, though, he was in love with her. And she was (he thought) in love with him. They'd already talked about marriage, and the pregnancy just seemed like a speeding up method to an already inevitable event. So it didn't feel like the _wrong _thing to do. It just felt _fast._

What felt even _faster _was the arrival of a screaming infant less than five months after their wedding. Though James would never believe it, seeing that baby for the first time was the single most significant moment of Harry's entire life. It had also been the most terrifying, and he'd thought to himself at the time that everything he'd ever done, right up to and including facing down Voldemort and almost dying, had been _infinitely _less scary than being faced with the prospect of being totally and completely responsible for this tiny little human's life.

He knew nothing about babies, of course. Prior to James, the only experience he'd had with any of them amounted to Teddy and the newest generation of Weasleys. With all of those, though, he could fawn over them for a few hours and then send them home. Even with Teddy, he wasn't _fully r_esponsible for him. Teddy had a home to go to, and he had a grandmother who was responsible for making sure that he was raised properly, clothed the right way and fed the right things. The new Weasley kids had parents to take care of them.

James had Ginny and him.

Ginny was better at the parenting thing than he was. She had more instinct, and obviously she had more to base her reactions off of. She knew how to heal scraped knees and knew exactly the right look to give to scare James into stopping whatever mischief he was about to get into. She knew what to feed him, knew when he needed a jacket, and knew how to make him sleepy when he was bound and determined not to go to bed. And Harry didn't know any of those things. He did what he _did _know how to do, which was work. He went to work and did everything he could to prove himself and work his way up through the Auror department. If Ginny could do the vegetables and the bruises, he could at least make money to keep them all comfortable.

Things weren't bad at first. They were overwhelming at times, but it didn't take long to fall into the swing of playing house and enjoying life as a happy little family. And a couple of years later when Ginny told him she wanted to have another baby, he thought it was a great idea. One wasn't so difficult- two couldn't be that much harder. And then two turned into three, and as the years went by, things started getting increasingly more difficult. He'd imagined that as the kids grew out of nappies and bottles that things would get easier, but they didn't. Every single year, the kids got older and life got harder.

Ginny decided she wanted to start working sometime around Lily's sixth or seventh birthday. She couldn't go back to Quidditch, obviously, because she was about ten years out of practice and out of shape. Not to mention, of course, that she was older and couldn't very well drag three kids with her to training. So she started writing for the sports' department of _The Daily Prophet _and seemed to like it okay. For a little while. She never went full-time, and she seemed bored of it pretty quickly. Harry didn't say anything, though. He figured that if she wanted to write, she could, and if she didn't want to, she didn't have to. They didn't need the money.

When the kids were little, he loved fussing about with them. He taught the boys how to fly before they could barely walk, but he could never really get Lily too interested in it. She was too prissy to get dirty, and she much preferred indoor activities like playing dolls and dress-up. Ginny loved playing with them, too, and it was funny to watch her try and undo Ron's Cannons brainwashing. She tried to turn the kids into Harpies' fans, but while she had moderate success with the younger two, James was a lost cause. Harry found it amusing and let Ron and Ginny battle it out over his oldest son's Quidditch upbringing.

When they got older, though, things got more complicated.

Hogwarts changed them all. He saw it first in James, of course, and he was more than a bit horrified to see that all it took was one year away from home to completely turn James into a self-centered, entitled _prat. _Perhaps it was mean to think such things about his own son, but the effect was evident immediately. And it never changed.

Harry never saw eye to eye with James too many times after that. James's attitude bothered him for reasons he wouldn't readily admit, but he could see it there even though he tried to pretend otherwise. His son was essentially an exact replica of the James Potter Harry had witnessed in an old teacher's memory when he was fifteen years old. Seeing that memory had been one of the hardest moments of Harry's life, and he knew it was a memory he himself would never forget. It was tucked away in his mind the same way it had stayed tucked away in Snape's all those years.

That memory had killed practically every single aspect of the fantasy he'd had of his parents- specifically of his father. It had been that memory that had proved exactly what Snape had told him for years and he had never believed. His father was an arsehole. He was full of himself and conceited and mean_. _He was popular and entitled and carless. He was exactly what Harry _could _have been if he hadn't been forced to spend the entirety of his teenage years fighting for his life and simply trying to see his next birthday.

And so while he didn't particularly find any of James's newfound character traits _appealing, _he couldn't help but be a bit resentful of the fact that he was truly his grandfather's namesake, while Harry himself never got that chance.

And things only went downhill from there.

He was at work when he actually very nearly literally bumped straight into Ginny. She was coming 'round one corner while he was coming from the other direction. And they literally came within inches of smacking straight into each other. He stopped, of course, and she stopped, too, looking everywhere but at his face. He hadn't seen her at all since six o'clock yesterday when he passed her on the way to the bathroom at home. He had no idea why she was at the Ministry.

They said nothing for awhile, but neither of them moved. They just stood there saying nothing as the continuous bustle of the Ministry went on all around them. He'd been on his way up to the Artifacts department to speak to one of the blokes up there about an old watch that had been left at one of the Muggle murder scenes. The murders had stopped completely since Ron's death, as obviously the people responsible had gone into deep hiding- it didn't mean they would stop investigating. Harry was more determined than ever to find them and, truthfully, a bit frightened of what he would do when he actually did. But he didn't know where Ginny was going or even why she was there, and finally he asked.

"What're you doing here?"

His voice was maybe a bit harsher than he meant for it to be, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. She still looked at the spot behind his head and carefully avoided his eyes. "I came to speak to Hermione," she said quietly. Then a beat passed and she sullenly added, "She told me she was too busy."

This was probably true. Hermione _was _busy. And even though she was putting in longer hours every day, her workload wasn't decreasing. There were weeks of catching up to take care of, not to mention new developments occurring every single day. But then again, Hermione was_ always _busy, and Harry had never once heard her say so to anyone, much less someone in her family. Still, he couldn't quite blame her.

He just nodded, though, in response to Ginny's answer. And he caught sight of her face for the first real time. She'd been crying but had obviously forced herself to stop and was struggling greatly to keep from bursting into tears again.

"Do you want…" He motioned aimlessly back in the direction of his department. She nodded, answering his unfinished question, and he walked with her back to the Auror Department and through to his office, which he'd just left a couple of minutes before.

He shut the door behind them and walked over to one of the chairs. She stood for a second and then finally dropped into one as well. He didn't like the awkward silence, but, at the same time, he didn't want to be the one to break it. He stubbornly thought that she should be the one to do so.

And two minutes and fourteen seconds later, she finally did.

"She hates me, doesn't she?" She was referring to Hermione, of course, and he could not answer her truthfully. He himself had barely spoken to Hermione since Wednesday, and he certainly hadn't asked her for her feelings on Ginny. Still, he knew that she didn't _hate _her.

"She's very busy," he answered lamely. "There's a lot of catching up."

"I shouldn't have said any of that." Ginny was mumbling, but he could hear her perfectly well. He looked over at her, and she was finally looking back at him. She looked tired and sad and unhappy.

"No. You shouldn't have."

She was embarrassed, and she looked down at floor. "Have you talked to her?"

"No. And you might be surprised to find I haven't fucked her, either."

The response was automatic, and he regretted it the second it slipped out. But he didn't necessarily _regret _it. He was bitter, and he needed to say it.

Ginny immediately looked even worse than before. She stared at him with eyes that seemed to be pleading for a break he wasn't yet ready to give. He didn't care if it was childish. She shouldn't have said that, and she knew it.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, blankly.

"Do you really believe that?"

"Of course not!" she said, and he could tell she was quickly growing exasperated. "I don't… I don't know why I said that."

She didn't believe it. She knew it wasn't true. But that didn't change the fact that plenty of other people _did _believe it. It was a common accusation that Harry had been hearing for nearly as long as he could remember. It was even worse when they were kids and the whole world seemed to think that they were secretly lovers. Ron even thought it- more than once. Most every real argument that he and Ron had ever had as children was at least _somewhat _related to an unfounded jealousy Ron seemed to possess about Harry and Hermione.

But then they grew up. And Ron stopped believing it. Ginny never once hinted that _she _believed it. And if other people whispered occasionally, they all just ignored them. So it was difficult to hear it brought up again, by his _wife _at that, in the wake of Ron's death. He was angry she'd made that accusation, even if she had simply spoken out of a mix of alcohol and fury. It didn't justify the situation, and he knew that hearing it probably hurt Hermione even worse. Especially since Ginny had preceded her comment about it making them both happier with, _'Now you've finally got the chance,' _as though they were both simply waiting for Ron to be out of the picture so they could take up together and live out the life so many other people seemed to think they should have.

He was bitter.

"I don't know why I said it," she mumbled again. "I don't know why I said _any _of it. It's just… _Hermione."_

He had no idea what she was talking about, and he didn't feel too fussed to ask. It was her responsibility to own up to it after all. _She _was the one who had successfully alienated her husband, her sister-in-law, her son, and her brand new daughter-in-law all in the course of one evening. He realized that he hadn't fully put together just quite how bitter he actually _was_ until that moment.

She seemed to realize that he wasn't going to ask her to clarify, so she took it upon herself to do so. "I love her," she said finally. "I really do, it's just… She's got _everything, _hasn't she?"

"Well, she hasn't got her husband." Again, he spoke without meaning to, and he actually wished he hadn't said it, as Ginny looked immediately even sadder than before. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't find joy in being cruel.

Still, she attempted to explain herself. "I just mean… She's got everything I wish I had." He couldn't pretend like her words didn't sting him. He knew that they'd never been as happy as Ron and Hermione had, but he didn't think things were _that _bad. Not for the most part anyway. Still, he had a feeling she was speaking about more than just their marriage. "She managed to do it all, and I… I didn't do anything," she finished quietly.

He didn't know exactly what she was referring to, so he finally asked. "What're you talking about?"

"She had a career. She was successful, _very _successful… She had kids on her own time, and they all turned out alright…" Her voice trailed off, and she didn't finish.

"Our kids are alright, too," he said firmly, as much for his own benefit as for hers.

But she shook her head. "I don't know what any of them are going to do. I can't _believe _Lily… And Al… What's he going to do now?"

But this wasn't about Al and Lily, and they both knew it. It was about James and the fact that she'd basically admitted twenty-two years of resentment to his face a couple of nights ago.

"James will be fine," Harry said, putting it out there so that she didn't have to. He watched her eyes dart once again to the floor as her whole face darkened.

"He's just a kid," she said slowly, yet firmly.

"He's an adult," Harry countered, trying not to be harsh. "And he can make his own decisions."

Ginny's eyes teared up. It surprised him that it was James who brought the tears to her eyes and not Hermione. He couldn't understand what was going on inside her head, and he wasn't even positive _she _understood.

"I don't want him to throw everything away," she said quietly, and her voice sounded a bit choked. "I want him to have more than…" Again, her voice trailed off, and Harry wanted to know exactly what she was going to say.

"More than what?"

"More than what we had," she finished, pointedly avoiding his eyes as her own watered dangerously.

Her words cut at him sharply. He felt sick to his stomach, and he wondered how it was possible that he could have made her so miserable. They'd had moments, of course, some of them nearly ending in divorce. Their marriage certainly hadn't been _easy, _but he had always loved her. Always, no matter what. And he felt horrible that he couldn't ever make her happy. He'd tried forever to make her happy, but apparently, it'd never been enough.

"Are you really that unhappy?" he asked quietly, and he didn't want to look at her, either. He looked over at the wall and listened for her response as she obviously took a few seconds to compose it. When she finally spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Not all the time."

And there it was. She'd finally said it, and now what was there to do? He felt quite as if someone had punched him in the gut. He suddenly wanted very badly to simply go home, pack his things, and leave. He didn't see how he was ever supposed to look at her again after she'd just admitted to hating their life together. But he did look at her, and what he saw was a very confused, very _sad _woman with silent tears streaking down her cheeks.

"It's not _you_, Harry," she said helplessly, and he was reminded of the completely lame cop-out that all people use when they're trying to let someone down gently- _'It's not, you it's me.' _He realized suddenly how completely _stupid _it sounded. Ginny, though, attempted to go on, trying to at least explain herself a bit. "I just never _did _anything," she added desperately. "I never did anything I wanted to do."

"Well, why not?" he demanded, and his voice was more hateful than he'd expected. "You should have said something if you were so fucking miserable! You should have _done _something."

She was crying now, fully. The tears were washing down her face, and she hiccupped a little as she tried in vain to wipe them away. "I _thought _I was doing the right thing… I thought that if I just…" She drew in several deep breaths. "I thought that if I was there for the kids and if I was there for you… that I'd eventually be happy. But I'm not my mother." The last words were barely audible, and Harry didn't know whether to feel _sorry _for her or feel infuriated.

"I never asked you to do any of that," he said defiantly, trying not to give into his overwhelming need to comfort her.

But Ginny made an excellent point when she looked straight back at him and said, "And I never asked _you _to spend thirteen hours a day at work, either."

"I thought it was the right thing!" he protested, and then the realization of the situation hit him hard.

They'd spent two decades trying to make each other happy and had, in the process, made _themselves _miserable.

They stared at each other. Both of them knew it, and neither knew what to say. They didn't say anything for a long time. Ginny continued to cry, and he felt sad and dull and empty all at the same time. Finally, after what seemed like ages, she broke the silence.

"I just wonder if things would have been different if we'd just _waited," _she said quietly. "If we'd just done things on our _own _time…"

"We did what we did because we had no choice. James was _here_." He said it bluntly, and she looked instantly worse.

"I know," she admitted quietly. "And what kind of a mother thinks that about her own child?"

He couldn't understand. He didn't know what she was trying to say, and he felt bad continuing to ask for clarifications. The conversation was exhausting him and making him feel impossibly worse than he already was. She continued on, though, explaining herself even though the words she said sounded pained and forced.

"I _love _him. I love _all _of them. I just… Sometimes I just wonder how things would have been if I hadn't got pregnant and if we hadn't rushed into marriage like that."

He'd wondered the same thing from time to time, but it had never been an issue to him. He'd never looked at that pregnancy as something to _regret. _It happened, and they dealt with it. If they should regret things, it should be the years that followed- the years that they'd somehow failed their children so miserably that they'd all turned into entitled, spoilt human beings. It was something that they, as parents, should have been able to control and prevent, and there was no denying that they'd both failed. Good intentions or no, they had still done something wrong and were somewhat at fault for all of their children's actions.

But still. They were all adults now. The children were grown up, and they were able to make their own decisions. He and Ginny had no choice now but to accept the decisions their kids made and deal with them as best they could.

"We can't change it, Ginny," he said flatly. "We made our decisions, and they have to make theirs."

"But they're making _wrong _decisions," she protested immediately. "And James is so impulsive! He has no idea what he's doing!"

Harry couldn't help but think that James knew _exactly _what he was doing. James's lifestyle was certainly no secret, and everyone in the world knew of his glamorous playboy-like world. If he was willing to give all of that up, he must have had his reasons. They were, perhaps, a bit impulsive, but they must at least be genuine.

They said nothing. Harry looked around the office where, just a week earlier, he'd shouted at his younger son and, he knew, forced him to feel blame that wasn't rightfully his own. He couldn't believe how quickly things had turned- how fast everything had fallen apart. He looked at Ginny as she sat in one of the seats across from him and thought about how many times her brother had sat in that very seat. And he just felt sick.

This wasn't _fair. _It wasn't _fair _that he had to deal with so much other shit when all he wanted to do was have a moment or two to mourn the loss of his best friend. Of course, he realized that he'd done a shit job of offering Ginny the chance to just mourn her brother. It was horrible and selfish, but there were times when he didn't think anyone could be feeling the loss as horribly as he himself was. But obviously he knew this wasn't true. Ron was his best friend, true, the best friend he'd ever had or _would _ever have. But he had a wife and children and parents and brothers and sisters and a whole world of people who were feeling the loss just as he was. And Ginny was one of those people. He hadn't been fair to her, and he knew it, but he didn't know how to fix it. Hell, he didn't know how to fix _any _it.

He'd never felt more helpless in his whole life.

"What do you want to do?" he asked quietly, pointedly avoiding her eyes for the millionth time. "About us," he finished, answering the question so she wouldn't have to ask it.

He could hear her sigh, but he didn't look over. He waited a few seconds for her answer. "I'm worse without you," she muttered.

So being with him was the lesser of two evils. He didn't know how he felt about that, but he didn't know how he felt about any of it. He and Ginny certainly had their issues, and their children certainly had their issues. Every part of their family needed work, and he wasn't entirely positive that he knew how to fix any of it.

"Tell Hermione I want to apologize," she went on, and he looked up at her again. Her eyes were still teary, and every few seconds a couple of fresh tears would fall. "And I'm sorry I said those things. I know they're not true."

He felt a new wave of confusion wash over him. Of course it would come back to Hermione. He couldn't explain the intense need he felt to protect her and take care of her _without _sounding like a man in love. But it wasn't that at all, and it was something he knew would be very difficult for someone on the outside to comprehend. Out of all the people in the world who had fought for him and made sacrifices, he was indebted to two more than all the others- those, of course, being Ron and Hermione. They had a _real _bond, and after all these years, he'd still never done anything to repay either of them. He didn't know if he ever would, but he knew he had to make sure that Hermione was alright and make sure that she stayed that way.

He was, once again, putting Ginny second.

And he hated himself for it and knew that he was absolutely in the wrong and should be better able to balance himself. But there was only so much he could do. Ginny had said countless times over the years that she felt second in his life, and here he was, proving her exactly right. But he didn't know what else to do. He didn't know _how _to balance everything. And he didn't know when he'd ever figure it all out.

All his life, he'd always done what he thought was the _right _thing. He'd always tried to do what he thought he had to do. But now his whole world was falling apart, and he had no _idea _what to do.

Much less what the _right _thing was.

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A/N: To those who were wishing for a bit of insight into Harry/Ginny or wanting Harry's POV on his marriage and the situations surrounding it, I hope this helped clear up some things and answer some questions. Thank you so much for reading, and I know lots of people will be happy to hear that Rose is next!


	44. Rose, March 23rd

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 44

**ROSE**

**March 23rd**

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Three weeks to the day.

It seems like fifteen years have passed since Dad died, and then there are still those moments where I forget that he's actually gone. Sometimes I still expect him to turn up at dinner, and yesterday I caught a newspaper headline about one of the Cannons players being involved in a tax scandal, and the first thought that popped into my head was, _'I wonder if Dad's heard yet.'_ It's so weird- so weird that he's never going to turn up at breakfast ever again and never, ever going to talk my ear off about Quidditch or the Cannons. Sometimes it still feels like a dream.

But things are falling back into place.

It's strange, and I can't help but feel a little bad each time we all sit down to a meal or head off to Diagon Alley for some quick shopping. It's those random, little things that really prove how things are going back to normal. They're just typical, average things that normally wouldn't even phase me, but now, when I stop and think about it, I feel guilty for moving on and returning to those normal activities. Moving on to _those _things means moving on. And I don't know how ready I am for that. Or at least I don't know how ready I _should _be.

Is three weeks long enough to put your life back in order after your father dies? Not really. But my life isn't totally back in order, and I can assure you that it probably will _never _be totally back in order. I don't know what else to do, though. Mum says we can't just sit around and do nothing all day, and she's right. If she can get up and go to work in the morning, I can do it, too.

Scorpius and I have been having lots of _serious _conversations lately. Conversations that you have about the _future_, really grown-up conversations that can both thrill you and terrify you. Of course, we don't seem to agree on much, so that isn't entirely fantastic.

I keep telling him that I don't want to go back to Ireland, and he keeps telling me I have to. Well, he doesn't say I _have _to, but he keeps saying that if I don't, I'm going to end up regretting it forever. I still don't know how I feel about the whole Healer thing, but Scorpius says I need to at least finish the training, and if I still feel unsure about it in the end, I can do something else. He says he just doesn't think I should give up when I already got this far. The truth of the matter, though, is that I've already missed three weeks of classes. As it is, I'm already going to have a difficult time catching up. If I miss much more, I may as well just pack it in.

But I'm not sure I'm _ready _to go back.

I hate doing the long-distance thing that's made even worse because of the stupid international borders. I'm getting really used to Scorpius always being here, and I can already tell that it's going to be awful once we're apart again. He's spent every single night here, and he only ever leaves when he has to go to training. I've never spent so many nights in a row with him, and honestly, I'm probably getting way too comfortable with it. One night, he got home late because he had to go to a publicity event for the team and didn't get home until almost 2 AM. I physically couldn't go to sleep until he got there. That's probably a problem. So no, I'm not sure I'm ready to go back to the letters and the one weekend every other month shit that we've been trying to do for the past two years.

And then there's Mum, too. I don't want to leave if she still needs me here. I mean, I know she's got Landon, but sometimes Landon is more of a handful than he is a help. It's not his fault, of course, he's just a kid. He needs someone to cook his food and make sure he takes a bath and goes to bed on time. Scorpius and I have been doing most of that, and I don't know if Mum's ready to take on that extra responsibility just yet while she's still trying to get back into the swing of things at work. Also, Mum may very well lose her mind if the only person's she's got to talk to at home is a seven year old. I'm not sure it's really fair to run off and leave her so quickly.

But maybe I'm just making excuses in my head. Maybe I just don't _want _to leave, so I'm coming up with unlikely scenarios that are probably not nearly the issue I'm trying to make them. But I can't help it.

The good thing that's come out of all this is that Landon may as well have attached himself physically to Scorpius. He _adores _him, which, of course, makes me thrilled. What makes me even happier is that Scorpius doesn't seem too bothered or annoyed by it and actually makes an effort to be really nice to Landon. He's helping him with his flying, and sometimes he takes him to training to hang out. He does other things, too- plays Snap and helps him with his tutoring. It's so _nice, _and it makes me even more positive about Scorpius. And, of course, it thrills me that two of my favorite people in the world get on so great.

I'm still not too fond of most other people outside my immediate family right now.

In fact, the only person who is _semi _on my good list at the moment is James, which, if you know me, is definitely an oddity. James is by no means, nor has he ever been, my favorite person. In fact, there are few people on this earth who annoy me _more. _But he's not being so bad right now, and I can appreciate that.

He came by yesterday while I was the only one home. Landon and Scorpius were in Tutshill, and Mum was at work. I was surprised to see James, considering the fact that he doesn't usually make a habit of dropping 'round my house unannounced.

"What're you doing here?"

He glanced around as he followed me back through to the sitting room. I didn't offer him anything to drink or eat because I figured doing so would delay his leaving.

"Is your mum home?"

"No. She's at work, why?"

He seemed distracted and then nodded. "Oh. Okay, I just wanted to talk to her."

James wanted to talk to _my _mum? Weird. I just raised my eyebrows at him and said nothing. He shrugged.

"I just had a couple of questions," he went on sullenly. He was acting very _un_James-like. "I needed to talk to her."

"About what?" I asked, and the sarcasm oozed out before I could even think of stopping it. "You better get in line if you want to start making confessions. Your sister tried to ruin my brother's life, and your brother _killed _my father." James looked at me but said nothing, so I kept right on going. "What did you do? Fuck my best friend again? Oh, wait, your brother's doing _that _as well."

James waited and let me finish. Then he just calmly raised his own eyebrows and said, "Are you finished?" I nodded bitterly, and he went on. "I don't have any confessions. I just wanted to ask her some legal questions."

"Did you kill someone?" I asked hopefully. "I hear Azkaban's lovely!"

James rolled his eyes and ignored me. "No, she signed my marriage license yesterday, and I just-"

"Wait, _what?" _I interrupted him and probably stared at him like he was some sort of circus freak. _"Marriage _license?!"

He eyed me and then nodded. "Yeah. You didn't hear?"

"No!"

He held up his left hand and flashed a tiny gold band. I stared at it in shock for several seconds and then shoved him down into the sofa before dropping beside him. I pulled my knees up under me and looked at him expectantly.

"When the fuck did you get _married?!"_

"Last week," he said as lazily as if he were announcing a rainstorm that had hit last week. "I can't believe your mum didn't tell you."

"She didn't!" I couldn't believe it, either- well, actually I could. Mum's always been really big on letting people reveal their own secrets. She's somebody you can actually _trust _if you're not an angry girl full of teenage angst.

So James told me the whole story. He told me about how he ran off to Greece and eloped. He told me about how his mother apparently fucking _flipped _when he told her. And he told me that me that _my _mother was the only person who seemed to support their decision and didn't immediately go mental. He said my mother was the only "rational" person in the entire family. A few years ago, that description would have made me scoff and roll my eyes because a few years ago, I certainly didn't see my mother as a _rational _person. I saw her as naggy, nosey, and overall annoying. Now, though, I see her a lot differently. And James is probably right.

James and I spent the whole afternoon talking after that, and it was weird because I actually enjoyed it. That's one of the most infuriating things about James- as much as I can't stand him ninety-nine percent of the time, he occasionally does things or says things that make me really like him. I think this happens because, as much as we both like to pretend otherwise, James and I are a _lot _alike. So sometimes I'm amused against my own will. And then when he was getting ready to leave, he asked me if I wanted to go to the pub, so I spent the rest of the night there with him and Kate drinking too much and finding things _way _too amusing.

And, at least for the moment, I still like him alright.

Kate's great, too, though I don't see _how _she's going to put up with James for much longer. I mean, I suppose she knows him pretty well, but I just can't understand it. She's so different from him, and I just don't know how it's ever going to work. I hope it does, though, because that way they can prove everyone wrong. Plus, if Kate and James manage to work out, people won't be so up in arms when Scorpius and I finally make it official. Not that we have any plans to do so in the near future, but eventually we will, and I can just _imagine _what people will have to say about _that._

He's gone right now- Scorpius, I mean. He's got training all day because they've got a match next weekend. Ironically, it's against James's team. Neither one seems too worried about the match, but if I were a betting woman, I'd definitely put my money on the Tornadoes. True, I might be a _bit _biased, but they're clearly the much better team. Their Seeker is _especially _fantastic. But that just leaves Mum, Landon, and me. Landon's already passed out for the night (even though it's barely eight o'clock- he's been exhausted lately), and Mum's out back.

I end up back there as well, mostly because I'm bored but also because I just want to have a chat with my mum. We haven't had too many moments without other people crowding around. The house is finally just emptying, but there's still usually Scorpius or Landon or _somebody. _

I make some tea and take two cups outside. It's a bit chilly, but it's not too bad. At least it isn't raining. The whole week's been full of rain, and it was about to get exhausting. Mum's on the swing doing nothing except sitting there under a blanket. She's staring out into the backyard looking tired and a bit sad, and it makes me feel bad to see her look like that. So I go over and offer her one of the cups.

She looks surprised but smiles at me and takes the tea. I don't wait for an invitation before sitting down on the swing with her, and she lifts up the blanket so that I can crawl in with her.

"Is Scorpius still not back?" She sips her tea and looks over at me sideways. I sip my own and shake my head.

"Not yet. Hopefully soon."

"They're running them ragged with the training, aren't they?"

I just shrug. "Well, they've only got to get through two more matches to have a totally undefeated season. I guess they just want to make sure they've got those in the bag."

Mum nods and says nothing. I figure now's as good a time as any to bring up the subject that's been bothering me most for the past several days.

"Mum, I'm not sure I want to be a Healer…" I say it quietly and carefully avoid her eye as she turns her head fully and looks at me. I half-expect her to start shouting at me, but she doesn't. Instead, she asks a very calm and controlled question.

"What do you think you want to do?"

I shrug again. Then, biting my lower lip and trying to keep a straight face, I say, "I dunno, I could become a career Quidditch WAG…"

I look at her then, and she's giving me one of those Looks. I can't take it anymore and start giggling. Mum looks relieved but rolls her eyes and shakes her head. I can tell she had a momentary freak out picturing me in the tabloids drunk and oblivious following a hard day's work of shopping and partying.

"You better not be serious."

"Yeah, I'd fit in perfectly," I say sardonically and roll my own eyes. "Or maybe Kate and I could start our own club. Speaking of which," I segue smoothly, "I can't believe you didn't think to tell me that they got _married!"_

Mum sighs and shakes her head. I have a feeling I'm missing something, but I don't really get the feeling that I ought to ask. "I forgot," she says, and I know it's a lie, but I don't say anything. "_Anyway," _she goes on, changing the subject, "do you have any ideas about what you _would _like to do if you don't become a Healer?"

"I just want to do something important," I say quietly. "Scorpius thinks I should finish the training and then see how I feel."

"I would agree with him." Of course she would. I frown. "But you're young," she goes on, "you've got plenty of time to do something different if this isn't what you want."

"I just…" My voice trails off because I feel suddenly embarrassed by what I was about to say. Mum looks over at me questioningly.

"You just want to go with Scorpius, right?" she asks gently, and she isn't teasing me or berating me. She's being very honest and very sincere.

I nod, ducking my head and then laying it on her shoulder so that I don't really have to look at her face. She wraps one arm around me and rests the cup of tea in her other hand.

"How'd you know?" I ask quietly.

"Because once upon a time, believe it or not, I was nineteen, too."

"Really?" I ask, feigning shock, and I laugh as she nudges me playfully.

"Hard to believe, I know."

"And what were _you _doing at nineteen?" I ask primly.

Mum pauses a second and then answers. "I was at Hogwarts actually." I'm confused for a second, I finished Hogwarts when I was seventeen. But then I realize that she has an early birthday (I have an extremely _late _one) and that she had to do an extra year of school because she missed her normal Seventh Year.

"Dad and Uncle Harry didn't go?" I already know the answer, but I want to hear her reaction.

She laughs sarcastically. "Yeah, right. They barely managed to make it there during the _compulsory _years."

"I bet you hated that, didn't you? Having to go back by yourself."

"Oh, god, it was _awful," _she says seriously. "It was the first year I _didn't _spend the year trying not to be killed, but it was the _worst _year."

"Aunt Ginny was there, wasn't she?"

Mum's face goes a bit dark for a second, but she goes right on. "Yes. And Luna. But it was still quite weird."

"Were you together with Dad then?" I don't really know the timeline of my parents' relationship, though I do know it wasn't rushed by any means apparently. Mum looks a bit sad, and I feel bad for bringing it up. She kills that look, though, and answers me.

"Yes, just barely. That made it worse, of course."

"Because you had to wait and wait for letters that never came," I finish glumly. I know all too well what it's like waiting for those letters when the boy you're in love with is hundreds of miles away. Trust me, it's not fun.

But Mum apparently didn't have that same issue. "Oh, they came alright," she says thickly, and then she laughs and shakes her head. I just raise my eyebrows at her in question, and she goes on. "When I was a kid, I used to get so _angry _at your dad because of the letters he would write. I'd spend ages writing letters that would be like four pages long, and when he'd write back, it'd be a sentence." She rolls her eyes. "It would _infuriate _me."

I can imagine this easily. My dad may have a lot to say when he gets talking, but he certainly isn't a letter-writer. Mum is the one who writes, and she'll slip in a, _'Dad says hi.' _If Dad writes (wrote, I tell myself forcibly, he won't write anymore), it's always something short, sweet, and to the point.

"You'd think he'd make a bit more effort and try to impress you some after you got together," I say, snuggling in closer to my mum as the wind starts blowing a cool chill over us.

"Oh, he did," she says darkly. "That year, he wrote _real _letters, only he didn't have anything to write _about. _He was working at WWWs, and he would write about _anything _and nothing. Those letters would be so full of random nonsense…" She pauses for a second, and I can feel her shake her head silently, though I don't lift my own. "And I used to wait all day for them."

She sounds sad and distant, and I don't look up to see her. Instead, I just use the balls of my feet to rock us in the swing a bit.

"He was bored," she goes on, and she seems to be forcing the sadness away and putting on a normal tone. "He wanted to be doing the Auror thing with Harry, but he was helping George. So I think he just wrote about anything and everything and _nothing. _Just to keep himself occupied._"_

"Well, that must have made you feel good," I snicker. "He wrote you so he had something to do."

Mum laughs, and I can tell she's rolling her eyes even though I don't look up. "Well, with that man, you took what you could get. _Especially _back then."

"I'm guessing he didn't date much." I try to hold another snicker in, but it's a lost cause. "Uncle Harry, too." I try to imagine either of them as teenagers, and it's a bit more hilarity than I can stand.

Mum literally snorts. "Hardly," she says darkly. "Except for the times when Harry was obsessed. And your father was _po_ssessed."

I look up then. "_Possessed?"_

Mum rolls her eyes. "Not literally. Well, possessed by idiocy perhaps…"

"Mum…" I look at her knowingly, smirking, and she gives me back a very stern sort of look that lets me know she doesn't want to give into what I'm about to yank out of her. "You were jealous…" I say it in a sing-song voice, and she sighs loudly.

"Just one girl," she admits. "And he only did that to piss me off."

"Did it work?"

"God yes." I stare at her in half-shock, and then we both crack up at the same time.

"Was she just like you?"

Mum looks at me as if I've grown a second head. "_Absolutely _not," she says firmly. Then she pauses for a second and says, "She was a bit like Lily." I must pull an awful face because Mum laughs against her own will. "Maybe not as powerful."

I try to imagine my dad (who, mind you, I've only ever known in the context of being married to my mother) having any interest whatsoever in a superficial twit similar to Lily. But then I realized…

"Why do boys do that?" I turn my nose up at my own question. "I mean, I thought Scorpius was getting off with half of England while we were broken up, and I wanted to _kill _myself_." _Perhaps it's a bit dramatic- but it's me.

"Yes, but he _wasn't," _she points out knowingly. "So at least there's that."

I settle back down into the crook of her arm, and she starts lazily twisting one of my curls through her fingers. "Dad was okay with it," I say quietly after a few seconds. "With Scorpius, I mean."

And Mum nods silently. I chance another glance at her, and she has that sad look again. It occurs to me that I'm having the first really _honest _conversation about boys that I've ever had with my mother. But she keeps drifting in out and of being amused and being grief-stricken. I feel bad for her. I try to imagine what it's like, but I can't. When Scorpius broke up with me, I honestly thought I was going to _die. _I felt like a whole half of me was gone, and all I wanted to do was give up. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to have all those decades with one person and then have them suddenly disappear one day.

Mum speaks up, though, suddenly, and her voice sounds firm and determined. "Rose, you don't have to care what _anyone _thinks about you and Scorpius. It's not their business." I turn my head and look at her questioningly. She's still twirling my curl, but she goes on just as strongly as before. "You do what makes _you _happy. It's not about anyone else."

I don't know _exactly _what she's talking about, but something tells me I'm missing something. If I were going to bet, I'd guess it has something to do with James and the fact that he told me his mother may as well have written him off for life. Of course, I don't _know _this, and I don't ask, either.

"Your dad loved you," she says firmly. "So he would want you to do whatever makes you happy. And so do I."

I smile and rest my head against her shoulder again. We swing in silence for a little while longer, and I can't help but notice how nice and simple it all feels. It doesn't even seem weird. It just seems _normal. _I wonder if maybe I'm finally growing up. I've always heard that eventually you stop resenting your parents and realize they always knew what was best for you all along. Of course, I never gave that much thought because the idea that I would someday suddenly have an epiphany that my parents have always been right has always been sort of laughable. But now it doesn't seem quite as funny.

It's strange to realize in one second that you're growing up and realize in the next second that you're absolutely terrified to leave home again. But I am. And it hits me like that. I'm making excuses about Mum needing me or Landon needing me… even _Scorpius _needing me… But the truth is that I'm just plain scared. I don't want to leave any of them because what if something happens? Hell, I even want _Hugo _to come home, just so I can see him every day and make sure he's okay. I don't want to lose anyone else, and while I'm sitting there with Mum, I can't even hide the sudden fear that takes over me.

But just as I register my own tears of fear welling up, I feel one of my mum's tears hit my cheek.

And I know she's crying for a completely different reason.

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A/N: So Rose is really maturing! I know it's out of character for her to be this way, but I know, personally speaking, that tragedy can make people very clingy to the people who are closest to them. I hope it didn't come across as too weird. Thanks for reading!


	45. Kate, March 30th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 45

**KATE**

**March 30****th**

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So. Who knew being a Potter would be so dramatic?

There're upsides, of course. I realized that the very first time I ever introduced myself as Kate Potter. It was at Madame Malkin's, and there was a line ten deep of women waiting to be fitted. I needed something to wear to a party for work, and the shop's assistant came through with a quill and a notepad, jotting everyone's names down and checking to see exactly what they were requiring. When she got to me, I gave her my name, and she literally stopped writing, stared at me in shock, and then motioned me to follow her into the backroom. "Kate _Potter," _she told the seamstress pointedly, and I was fitted and on my way out with two brand new sets of dress robes within twenty minutes.

When I first went back to work after James and I got home from Greece, no one at the bank believed me. Everyone thought I was lying or mental or _something. _And then when they found out I was telling the truth, you'd have thought they'd just named me as replacement for the Queen or something. Most people at Gringotts _hate _James, and they've never made any secret of it- they think he's a spoilt, pampered bastard who's had his whole life handed to him on a silver platter. And, well, they're right. But it's almost funny how no one even says anything _close _to that now. And they treat me so differently- like they're totally enamored or something. It's weird, and I'm not used to it yet.

And then there's the press.

Obviously I have been well aware of the media's love affair with James for many years, but I didn't experience it firsthand at all until we returned to England and news of the wedding broke. It's all over the papers, and there're pictures of the wedding and everything (though I haven't got a clue who took them). And now I literally can't step outside without having flashbulbs exploding in my face. The story's been spun every way imaginable- from pregnancy to blackmail to a Hogwarts romance rekindled to, the most popular, a classic gold-digging story.

And guess who someone ends looking the worst in every single story… That's right. _Me._

Of course, I expected it- to an extent anyway. I imagined that they were going to have a field day with the story and spin it into something ridiculous. I even imagined that they were going to paint me as some sort of money-grubbing slag. I _didn't _imagine, though, that his mother would more or less say it to my face.

To say that Mrs. Potter wasn't _thrilled _with James's sudden decision to marry me would be an extreme understatement. I'd heard from James, of course, that his mum could be a bit hysterical when she got set off, but I'd always just figured he was exaggerating. I _never _expected to witness what I witnessed during my first ever family dinner with his parents. It was horrifying for everyone involved, and I seriously thought I was just going to die right there. James hasn't stopped apologizing since, though he _has _taken to making jokes about it (which are terribly transparent and actually sad, though, of course, I don't say anything). But his mother was _mean- _not just to me, but to James and even to the Minister (it's definitely going to take me time to get used to _that…). _

I feel the worst for James, though, because even though he's able to make jokes about it, it's very obvious that he's hurt by it. He has a real tendency to put on a much tougher act than what he's actually capable of. Underneath all his general prattiness, he's actual sort of sensitive. And I know hearing those things bothered him. I know they've bothered him for a long time, and now it's even worse because he actually heard them with his own ears instead of just imagining them in his head.

But it's okay. Because I'm taking good care of him.

Being married is actually a lot of fun. I mean, besides the drama obviously. But it's fun playing house and doing all those sorts of things, like making dinner together and doing the laundry and shopping for things for the flat. His "assistant," Maggie, was let go with a fairly generous severance package. When he first said he wanted to do that, I looked at him like he was crazy because I was almost scared he wanted me to fall straight into Happy Housewife mode. But then he said it wasn't like that, and that if we married then we should be adult enough to take care of our own home. So we let her go (she wasn't too upset), and then we started doing everything ourselves.

Now, obviously I'm used to doing things myself, as I never had an "assistant" to wash my underwear for me. But it's more difficult with two people in one area, so it's nice to have someone to help. We both do our fair share, and honestly, I really like it and think it's kind of fun. We _do t_echnically have _two _residences to keep up, but I'm not even kidding myself by pretending like we ever stay at mine. We need to just get rid of it. We're "supposed" to be looking for a new place that we can have _together, _but I'm honestly getting sort of comfortable in his giant, pretentious flat…

James is great, too. I know I always complain about him being immature and self-centered and egomaniacal… But every single time I look at him, I still want to kiss him. I know well enough that the "honeymoon" phase will end soon enough, so I'm all for relishing it as long as it lasts. He's really sweet to me, too, and he always does adorable little things that I would never find endearing in normal circumstances. And yeah, obviously sometimes we still get into tiffs and that sort, but overall, things are really fantastic. At home at least- can't really ask for more.

And now I'm at my first official Quidditch match as a player's wife. Actually, it's the first Quidditch match I've been to period since Hogwarts and my first professional match ever. It's just as insane as I figured it would be, what with the sold-out stadium and the loads and loads of shrieking fans. It's seriously loud enough to give someone a headache, and I'm infinitely thankful to be sitting up in this box instead of down in the regular stands.

I don't care much about Quidditch honestly (yes, I know, it's a tragedy), so at least I don't have to sit up here alone and try to keep myself awake. The Arrows are playing the Tornadoes, so Rose is here, too, with her mother and her little brother. They're letting me sit with them (and trust me, I'm thankful), but it's also a bit weird. Her mother apparently isn't supporting either team to save herself from having to pick sides, and she seems bored and more like she'd rather be at home than here at a Quidditch match. In fact, she's even brought work with her and is sitting in the corner marking up some papers while the match is going on right outside. Two Aurors are right outside the box, and I wonder how odd it must feel to be constantly followed and babysat. Rose's little brother is definitely _not _bored and is hanging onto every single move almost as if he's mesmerized. And Rose is somewhere in between, and she breaks up the monotony by trying to engage me in conversation.

Rose is different than she used to be when we were in Hogwarts. Of course, I didn't know her too well anyway, considering the fact that she was both in a different House _and _two years below me. What I _did _know of her then, though, was that she was extremely smart, extremely spoiled, and seemed to be extremely bitchy. I knew that she and James didn't get on all that well in normal circumstances, but it always seemed to me that they were a lot more alike than either of them would ever like to admit. Now, though, she actually seems pretty nice. Maybe she's changed, or maybe I just didn't know her before and just took surface reactions to gauge an opinion.

"Does it ever get less boring than this?" I ask warily, feeling bad for admitting that I find the whole thing tiresome. Rose just shakes her head, though.

"No. If anything, it gets worse. And I don't even get to _see _many matches."

I laugh, having expected her to say something more encouraging.

"Seriously," she says. "I think if you don't like Quidditch in the first place, it doesn't get much better. You have to like it to begin with, I think."

"Lovely…"

"But being bored at Quidditch should be the _least _of your worries," she says flippantly. "I mean… _James." _She snickers, and I can't help but laugh, too.

"He's not that bad." Rose just looks at me with raised eyebrows, and I laugh again. "I think you're just genetically wired to dislike him."

"When I was four," she says seriously, "he tried to bury me alive."

She's so serious that I have no choice but to believe her. And apparently she's telling the truth because her mum says, "Rose, that was fifteen years ago," without even lifting her eyes from her work.

"And clearly I was traumatized!" Rose protests and rolls her eyes at her mother who either doesn't see her or completely ignores her. Then she looks back at me and shrugs. "He's alright," she admits begrudgingly. _"Sometimes."_

Her little brother yells at this point, which alerts us to something important happening on the pitch. Honestly, I can't really tell what it is- other than the fact that the Arrows are getting positively _killed. _The scoreboard reads 190 to 80, which I don't have to tell you doesn't speak well for my new husband's Chaser abilities. But that's not fair- he's actually really good (supposedly), but the Tornadoes are just better, I guess. That's probably why they're the only undefeated team in the league.

Rose looks happy and smirks a little bit. I can tell she isn't a _huge_ Quidditch fan, but she likes it a bit more when her team is killing the opposition. Especially when the opposition's star player is her cousin.

"James _sucks,_" Landon says out of nowhere, and Rose laughs loudly.

"_Landon!" _Apparently his mum isn't quite as amused. "That's rude."

"Well, look," he says, flinging his hands in the direction of the pitch. "Their whole team can't do _anything!"_

"It's still rude." She doesn't look up but somehow goes right on. "And if you think I don't see you rolling your eyes, you are sadly mistaken."

Landon and Rose look at each other discreetly and both bite their lips to keep from snickering. They're not as discreet as they'd like to be.

"And _you _shouldn't encourage him," their mum carries right on, obviously directing her comment to Rose.

It's an amusing scene to watch. Both of the kids glance at each other again and smile secretly, but they both stop their comments and snickering. It's shockingly normal, especially considering everything they've just been through. It's a far cry from the scene I witnessed at _James's _house, that's for sure. This part of his family _definitely _seems more balanced and leveled- too bad it doesn't seem to reach over to his immediate family…

The match breaks then because Scorpius grabs the Snitch, and the Tornadoes end up winning 350 to 110. Landon is ecstatic, and Rose seems pleased enough. I should probably be a bit more upset, but I don't really honestly care that much. I glance out trying to get a glimpse of James, but I can barely even spot him in the mess of people crowding the pitch as the teams land. He's too far away to read his expression anyway. He told me this morning that he didn't expect to win, but I'm sure it doesn't make losing any easier.

"So what do we do now?" I ask Rose, glancing over as her mother starts packing up her things. "Just wait?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. Scorpius said he'd try to come up before he has to do press."

Almost on cue, a loud popping noise sounds, and Scorpius appears. He's sweaty, dirty, and exhausted, but he smiles anyway. Rose smiles back, almost shyly, and it's sweet enough to make somebody puke. "That was really great!" she says brightly, but he just looks at her and curls one corner of his mouth up.

"You didn't even pay attention, did you?"

"Not really," she admits, and he laughs. He doesn't have time to be _too _amused, though, because he's almost immediately accosted by her little brother who grabs his arm and starts prattling off a million miles a minute about the match. Rose rolls her eyes and clamps a hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. He struggles against her, but she holds tight and ignores him. _"Anyway," _she says pointedly, "do you know where James is? His _wife _is looking for him." She can't hide the smirk.

Scorpius seems to notice me for the first time and glances over at me before shaking his head. "No, I saw him for a second when we landed. But I don't know where he went after that."

I nod, trying not to be too disappointed. I should have made better plans with him before we got separated earlier. I'm sure he'll track me down eventually, though, if I just stay here. Scorpius has to go, too, and I don't really understand the point of him even showing up if he could literally only stay for a minute. But I imagine it's something along the lines of… he promised her, and he doesn't break promises to her. It's crazy really- as evil as everything I've ever heard about the Malfoys is, you'd never believe it looking at this guy. He seems to be as close to perfect as it's humanly possible to be, which, of course, is slightly creepy. But it's really too sweet and genuine to be creepy, so I don't know what it is.

"Rose, let your brother go." I almost for the Minister (Hermione, ergh, I'm never going to get used to that) is even here, but she's finished packing her things and stands up. Her voice is bored, and Rose pulls the slightest of faces before letting go of Landon and shoving him forward. "Scorpius, that was really good," she says nicely, and he smiles gratefully at her even though I'm sure he knows she wasn't paying much attention, either. Then she looks around at the other kids and asks if they're ready to go.

Rose hesitates for a second and glances over at Scorpius for half a second. "Um, I think we're just going to stay here tonight." For a second, I think she means here as in here at the Quidditch stadium. But then I realize she means here as in Tutshill. She says it almost timidly, as though she's afraid her mother will say something to her about staying with her boyfriend. I don't know why, since James said Scorpius is living in her bedroom in her mother's house.

For what it's worth, her mum _doesn't _make a big deal about it. Not about _that _anyway. She just glances between them and nods. "Well, be careful traveling," she says. "Rose, you and Kate wait together until they're finished. Don't stay up here alone."

I wonder what she thinks is going to happen to us in a VIP box, but I don't say anything. Rose just appeases her and nods. And then both she and Scorpius get kisses to the cheek before her mum and her little brother leave (her little brother protesting loudly the whole way).

"You guys can come down," Scorpius says when it's just the three of us. "I'm sure James is down there somewhere."

I almost decline, but then I see that Rose is going down with or without me (she apparently gives no heed to her mother's instructions). So I follow them. Scorpius doesn't Apparate down, but he does take a back staircase that isn't too crowded and seems to only have people related to the teams. It's weird to be heading down here like this, but it's also kind of thrilling in a weird way. I feel a bit like a third wheel, as Scorpius and Rose don't seem to even notice me as we go downstairs. And then I find myself in the odd position of being in the entryway to the Tornadoes' changing room when I am definitely not connected to the Tornadoes in any way. Rose seems to notice my dilemma because she laughs and points me further down the corridor to where a group of people are congregating.

It's the Arrows' changing room apparently, and I sort of just hang around outside beside the group of people milling in the hallway. I don't know what to do, so I just stand there and try to blend in. It's difficult, as I feel quite out of place and quite stupid just standing there doing nothing. But then the door opens, and a few of the players come out. James is with them, and he sees me right away.

"There you are!" He pushes through the people and grabs me and kisses me straight away. I'm surprised and a little embarrassed considering the fact that there are about fifteen people looking on, and I don't know a single one of them.

"I didn't know where you were," I tell him, pulling back just a little bit.

"I know. I forgot to tell you." He gives me an apologetic half-smile. "I'm sorry." I shrug. "How'd you get down here anyway?"

"Scorpius."

James pulls a face and looks past me down to the corridor. He mutters something that sounds a lot like, "Wanker," but he doesn't quite say it loud enough to hear clearly. I just look at him, and he smiles innocently.

"Don't be petty."

But James just continues to smile and shrugs. "I'm not being petty. They always win. It's what they do." He is clearly very bitter. I laugh, I can't help it. "So you sat with Rose then?"

I nod. "Yeah, and her mom and her brother."

"Hugo?"

"No, the little one." I can't believe how quickly I've blanked on the name. It's going to take me _ages _to learn his whole family.

"Oh, Landon." He pauses a second and then adds, "He's a brat."

"Wow," I laugh again. "He doesn't seem too fond of you, either."

James just shrugs and then looks back down the hallway. Rose and Scorpius are nowhere in sight. "Rose was supporting Tutshill, I suppose?" I nod. "And her mum?"

"She didn't choose sides."

"I think she forgets that I'm her godson."

"And that's her son-in-law," I say pointedly, but James shakes his head.

"Not yet."

"Soon enough."

James rolls his eyes and then motions at a few of the people standing around in the hallway. They come over, and he wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me over to him. "This is Kate," he says tilting his head just enough so that it knocks into the top of my own. Then he nods around at the small circle of men and names them off. "Kate, this is Patrick, Josh, and Will."

Patrick, Josh, and Will all look me up and down in a not-so-discreetly way and then do that stupid smirking thing that men do. James eats it up, of course, and instead of being offended that other people are apparently checking me out, he actually seems to find it amusing. That's how he is, though. He views the whole thing as something to be envied for instead of an incredibly offensive and sexist glance-over.

"Not bad, Potter," one of them says (I don't know which one, they all look like identical Quidditch-playing bastards to me).

James smirks. "I know."

Seriously?

I say nothing because I'm too shocked (or maybe not shocked enough). I just stand there and watch without listening as some more Quidditch bullshit talk goes on, and four males try to make themselves all feel important by reliving the few good moments of their overall sucking in the earlier match. And yes, I believe I _am _a little bitter. James, who I might remind you is my _husband, _doesn't seem to even remember my existence. I'm pretty sure that if it weren't for the fact that his arm was still around my waist, he'd probably forget I was even _here. _Finally some woman opens the door to the changing room and tells them that the press is ready for them.

As his teammates go back in, James turns and gives me a genuine smile. "I just have to do a couple of interviews, and then I'll be done, okay?"

I guess he can tell from the look on my face that I'm not overly amused.

"What's wrong?"

He doesn't know, of course, and that bothers me more than anything. But I don't know why I'm surprised. He has been this way for as long as I've known him.

"Nothing. Just go."

"Well, clearly you're mad about something…"

"I'm not mad," I say, and I'm sure my tone gives away my exasperation. "Just go do your interview."

James eyes me for a moment. "Okay, what did I do?"

I debate whether to even say it. It isn't going to change anything. "I just don't particularly appreciate being talked about as if I'm not in the same room."

James doesn't say anything, and then he just kind of laughs and shakes his head. "Babe, they're just playing. It's not serious."

He says nothing about himself, of course, because he has a horrible tendency to not notice his own flaws. It's not even worth it.

"It's fine," I say dully, trying to make my voice believable. "Just go on. I'll wait here."

He looks at me again, his eyes scanning across my face for some sign of what's really wrong and if I'm fully over it. I try to keep it as neutral as possible.

"I love you," he says, and he's oddly serious. I nod, and he moves back in to kiss me again before disappearing back into the changing room.

And now I'm completely alone in the corridor, as the areas in front of both the changing rooms are totally empty. I don't know why I feel like this- I don't even know _what _it is. Well, I suppose that's a bit of a lie. I know what it is, I just don't want to admit it. I don't want to admit it because I told myself I was going to stop paying so much attention to James's flaws and stop trying to change things about him. I told myself I was just going to accept that he is who he is and deal with it.

But it's hard.

I think I should still have a right to be annoyed by things he does (he's an immature prat with a selfish streak), but then I wonder if that makes me a bad wife. Not that I think we should have to follow each other blindly or anything like that… but I think that when you marry someone, you're supposed to be accepting of each other, flaws and all. But I don't know… It's just hard. I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing, and while I have loved plenty about being married so far, sometimes it really does feel like I'm just a little girl playing make believe. I mean, I literally got married on the spur of the moment.

And now this is my life.

But I _love _James. I really, really do. And if you love someone, it shouldn't matter how or why you got married, right? You should just be together because that's what your heart says to do. And that's what mine said. It's what it says every single time I look at him. I'm just overwhelmed with a lot of it. But I love him, and that should be all that matters.

It's just… weird sometimes.

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A/N: Okay, so sorry it took so long to get this out! I had a ton of work to take care of that had to come first! Now I'm done, though, so it's got my full attention again. Thanks for being patient!


	46. Lily, April 6th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 46

**LILY**

**April 6****th**

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

James got married.

Now, you'd think I'd get an invitation to the wedding or, at the _very _least, an invite to the wedding party, seeing as how I _am _his sister. But no. No wedding, no party… Hell, nobody even bothered to tell me _after _the fact. I actually found out from Louis who found out from Hugo who found out from _Rose. _So all three of them knew about it before I did (along with, I'm sure, the rest of our family). But no one even _thought _about telling me.

I wouldn't really expect James to tell me, considering the fact that he's a self-centered prick who rarely thinks about _anyone _besides himself (and whoever he happens to be fucking at the time), but I was really surprised that Mum or Dad didn't bother filling me in. I mean, I _know _they still hate me for the whole Hugo thing, but don't they have a parental _obligation _to inform me of important family occurrences?

Whatever.

I don't have time to worry about what James is doing with his personal life (besides, the "wedding" pictures ended up front page of _The Daily Prophet_ within a few days anyway- thanks to an _'anonymous' _tip, which really means James probably sold them himself). It doesn't matter to me if he's randomly up and marrying girls. It's his life and _his _money he's throwing away. Maybe they'll get divorced soon, and he'll end up poor. I would laugh.

But yes, in case you missed the line that that bit of information had to go down, it was Rose, Hugo, Louis, _me. _Once upon a time, Hugo would have come straight to me and told me all about it right away. Of course, those days are long gone now, and the best I can hope for these days is that he doesn't actually try and injure me during class (he "accidentally" spilt a vial of flobberworm mucus on me in Potions three days ago, and I _still _haven't got rid of the smell). I guess Hugo must really be off the deep end now because he is actually being sort of mean to me. I expected that he would just ignore me, but he hasn't so much. He makes snide little comments and accidentally spills things on me during Potions.

And _he's _supposed to be the mature one.

I tried to apologize. I tried to do it to his face, and when he wouldn't listen, I actually wrote him a long note in Transfiguration. He turned it into a feather. So whatever. I've tried to apologize, he doesn't want to hear it. It is what it is, I suppose.

The good news, though, is that Hugo's the only one who's still got enough balls to be mean to me. The rest of that shit stopped pretty quickly after I put those bitches in their places and let them know in _no _uncertain terms that they were _not _going to fuck with me and that I was _not _interested in playing any silly games with them. I'm smarter, prettier, and a hell of a lot more powerful, so they know better than to think otherwise.

Of course, I don't particularly care too much about any of those people, and I'd much rather just know that Hugo doesn't hate me. But I suppose the chances of that happening are very much slim to none.

I have a feeling I'm going to be on his shit list for a very long time to come.

Meanwhile, I've decided to pretend like I give a shit about my future and start revising for the NEWTs. There are very few people who actually care, so it's difficult to find someone to study with, much less find someone to tutor me and catch me up on the seven or so years I've spent sleeping. I've got a horrible feeling that I'm going to fail everything, but then I wonder how much I'd actually care. I don't exactly have any big career aspirations, and it's not like I've got parents who give two shits about how many NEWTs I end up with. But I'm bored and have nothing better to do.

I bribed Eric Woodlen into tutoring me. Actually, it didn't take much bribing- I think the fact that I even spoke to him pretty much sealed the deal. He just sort of stared at me and then nodded and mumbled something incoherently. He's a Ravenclaw and one of the top of our class. He's really smart but _very _socially awkward. I don't think I've ever had a conversation with him in all seven years until two days ago when I cornered him after Transfiguration and asked for his help. He was a bit pathetic really, but I need help, so I'll just ignore it.

Meanwhile, Lydia and the rest of the clones are falling back into obscurity. Right where they belong, of course. I'm sure they'll all end up failing their exams and working in dress shops on Diagon Alley. I am not going that route. I will… do something. I just haven't quite worked it out yet. Whatever it is, though, will be infinitely more important than anything those girls manage. We are not friends again, if you can't tell. They gave up trying to sabotage and beat me, but we're certainly not mates again by any means. Right now, I don't see the point in going after them, though. We're nearly done, and when we're done, we're done. I'm not going to have to see any of them, so it doesn't matter if I end up destroying them or not. It's too much effort for an event that will only last for so long. I'll just leave it alone and let it be what it is.

And then I'll leave Hogwarts with absolutely no friends.

This thought occurred to me in the middle of breakfast one day when I was sitting with a couple of the idiot prats from my year, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head since. It's ridiculous, isn't it? I mean, it's not like I _care, _but it is a bit stupid. You spend seven years in a place- _seven years- _and you leave without even one real friend… I'm the most popular girl in this whole fucking school, and I don't have any friends! It makes no sense.

I try not to dwell on it as I spend my evening in tutoring. Eric doesn't have much patience with me, I can tell, but he isn't going to say anything. I can tell he thinks I'm a fucking stupid person or something, but he is way too scared to bring it up or point it out. It's not like he's that far off anyway. I'm definitely not the _smartest _person in the world, but I'm sure there have got to be people who are dumber than me. After all, what I lack in book skills, I make up for in other areas.

He's sort of cute, Eric is. In an anorak sort of way, I mean. He's alright for a Ravenclaw- the whole lot of them are pretty annoying in general, and it's filled with a bunch of know-it-all pricks who actually think revising for this shit is entertaining. I briefly dated one earlier this year for about two seconds, but that was a waste of time. He was just as swotty and stuck up as all the rest of them are. Fucking Ravenclaws. I shouldn't say that. My new sister was a Ravenclaw after all…. But on the other hand, it's just another perfectly good reason to hate her.

We finish up, and he tells me that he thinks I'm really "getting it," which is obviously a blatant lie. I know no more than I did to begin with, but he's just being nice. Or maybe he's just scared. I dunno. I thank him and offer to pay him, but he tells me it's "okay" and that he's "happy to help." I resist the urge to roll my eyes and keep my money. Then I ask if he can help me tomorrow, and he says he can with a little too much urgency in his voice.

By the time I get back to Gryffindor, I'm not exactly in the best mood. But that's not a gigantic surprise, considering the fact that I haven't been in a great mood at all lately. Lydia and the twins are in the Common Room trying to salvage the last weeks of their so-called "reign," laughing loudly and talking, but they quickly shut up when I enter and lower their voices considerably. I glare over in their direction just for the hell of it, and I take pleasure in the fact that they all look nervous and twist around awkwardly in their seats. They know they're lucky that I'm not publicly humiliating them, so they're being very careful not to set me off.

Luke Everman and a few guys are sitting close to them, and, of course, they all look me over as I enter. I ignore them initially, but Luke jumps up and hurries across the Common Room, catching me before I can hit the stairwell and disappear.

"Hey, Lily," he says casually in a _really _bad disguise of eagerness.

"Hey," I mutter unenthusiastically.

"You look nice tonight."

I glance down at myself. I'm still in my school kit, and my hair is pulled up in some ridiculously less than perfect ponytail. I'm sure I look _hot._ I just look at him.

"So," he panders on, shifting his weight from one foot to the other inconspicuously, "I've got some shit if you want to hang out."

Some shit. He means drugs, of course, and I won't lie and say that I'm not terribly tempted. I really _could _stand to get out of this mood for a little while. Of course, it means "hanging out" with Luke, which isn't really my ideal night. On the other hand, I haven't got any other plans…

"What have you got?"

He glances around behind him and then pulls a tiny little bag of white powder out of his pocket for half a second before dropping it back in. Wow. This kid's got the big stuff. I know I should just forget it and go upstairs, but I don't know how much willpower I have… Not much apparently because in the next second, I find myself saying, "Okay."

Luke grins, lifting one corner of his mouth higher than the other. He looks like such a smug little bastard that I kind of want to kick him the balls. Of course, if I do that, there's a very good chance that I will _not _be getting high tonight. So I don't.

"Cheers," he says, still smiling. Then he turns around to the little crowd he just left and motions for them to follow us. Lydia and the twins get up, eyeing me the entire way, and I begrudgingly join them as Luke leads the way up to his dormitory. It's early, so it's still empty. Luke and Dalton Ripper are both here, along with a couple of Sixth Year boys and, of course, Lydia and the twins. Besides Luke and Dalton, none of the rest of the Seventh Years are around, and I glance cautiously across the room to where Hugo's bed is. A feeling of ick fills me, but I quickly push it away and put it out of my mind.

I sit down on one of the beds with Dalton. The other girls sit on the next bed with the Sixth Years, and we just sort of look at each other contemptuously but say nothing as Luke pulls out an old text book and lays it flat on the bed. No one says anything as he divvies up the powder into several thin lines. I shouldn't be doing this, of course, but what the hell. It's not as if any of this is going to matter in two months. Hogwarts, none of it. It isn't going to matter because it's all going to be over.

I tell myself this again as I drop my head and take my turn on the book. It burns my nose, of course, which isn't surprising, as I've never quite gotten used to the sensation. The only person who doesn't seem slightly bothered is Luke himself who actually does two lines and then smiles as he lifts his head and discreetly wipes the tip of his nose.

"This is so illegal." Meredith makes the observation, but she giggles a second later. She's already feeling the effects, but that's not surprising. When you play in the big leagues, you get to the high part much more quickly. Of course, you crash a lot harder, but we'll deal with that when it comes.

Euphoria.

This is as close as we'll ever get, I'm sure. Life sucks, and the only thing that makes it even halfway decent is snorting illegal substances up your nose. Whatever. Life is life. It sucks, and then it's over. And all the parts in between are just moments leading up to the big grand finale.

Still, though, I feel better than I did before. And I actually don't mind having a halfway normal conversation with the idiots around me. Of course, I'm sure if we were sober, the conversation wouldn't sound nearly as normal. Lydia, Meredith, and Miranda annoy me much less when I'm high. This thought occurs to me as I find myself wandering over to their bed to get a better look at Miranda's nail varnish. I laugh with them, and we joke around a bit. And things are almost sort of normal. Of course, I know in my head that it's all due to the fact that my mental state is heavily altered at the moment, but I don't care. It doesn't matter. Right now, at least I'm having fun.

I let Dalton Ripper slip his hand under my skirt and brush his fingers up and down my thigh, and I don't even pretend to be annoyed. I honestly don't care. I kiss him, too. Just once. And then I go back to laughing with my ex-friends about Julia McCoy's horrid new haircut.

And things almost feel normal.

That doesn't last, of course, because eventually the door to the dormitory opens, and eventually real life hits me again. Hugo comes in with one of the other residents, and they both look over at us and immediately know something's up.

"What're you guys doing?" Hugo asks the question, and he comes over to where Luke is and looks over his shoulder. He sees the book, and while there's no evidence of the drugs, I'm sure he can more than infer what's just taken place.

"You are really cute!" It's Meredith who says it, and she stands up from her spot on the bed and links an arm through Hugo's. Apparently she's developed a certain taste for my cousins, as she and Louis have certainly made no secret of their casual, purely physical relationship over the past few months. The sad thing, of course, is that Louis still can't tell Meredith and Miranda apart, so he always has to wait for her to make the first move.

Hugo, though, just looks at her strangely and then ignores her. He looks instead at Luke who holds up the last remains of the bag. "Want some?"

"If you get caught with that, you could get _expelled." _Hugo sounds eerily like his mum, and if he were still speaking to me, I'd tell him so. Besides, it's certainly not as if he's some type of goody two-shoes who has never done drugs before. He just usually sticks to the herbal kind and not the powder kind.

Miranda, though, has a momentary freak out. "I can't get expelled!" she says hysterically. "I haven't even taken my OWLs yet!"

"You won't get expelled," I tell her listlessly. My high is fading quickly.

"I can't!" she says again. "My mum and dad would murder me! Meredith, we can't get expelled!"

"Shut _up, _Miranda," I say, now well annoyed. "Nobody's getting expelled."

"You will if they find out what you've just been up to," Hugo says haughtily, and he looks right at me.

I look back at him and debate whether or not to even say anything. In the end, I can't help myself. I rarely can. "So are you going to tattle on me?"

Hugo smirks, actually _smirks, _and says, "What would be the point? Like anyone would care if you got expelled." He pauses a beat and then adds, "Your own parents wouldn't even care."

No one says anything. Everyone else is probably either too shocked or too scared to say anything, and I can't really think of anything. So I just stare at him, and he stares back at me. And we have a stare-down competition like we used to have when we were eight. And he wins.

"It's the truth, you know," he says when I finally give up and look away. He isn't speaking to me anymore, either- he's telling everyone else. "Her parents don't give two shits what she does. They probably wouldn't even notice if she got kicked out."

"Just shut up, alright?!" I say suddenly, standing up and heading straight for the door. "You win, okay? I give up! I'm sorry I ruined your fucking life or whatever it is you think that I did." I stop just for a second and turn around. "Just leave me alone, okay?"

Hugo looks at me, and his face is stony and unsympathetic. His eyes give him away, though, and he almost looks like he wants to say something apologetic of his own. But he doesn't. He just lets me leave. They all let me leave. I expect _someone- _Lydia or, hell, even Dalton- to follow me and try to stop me. Lydia to tell me that everything's going to be okay and permanently get back on my good side or Dalton to try and get more than just a hand up the skirt. I mean, it's no secret that I get a lot sluttier when under the influence. But no. No one comes after me, so I just head down the stairs and then back up the girls' staircase.

Fuck him. Fuck them. Fuck _all _of this. I hate this whole place and everyone in it. I can't wait until I get out of here. I almost wish I _was _getting expelled. Then I get out of here and never have to look at any of these people again. Except Hugo, of course, who I will most likely have to see at every Christmas and every wedding and every funeral for the rest of my life. Of course, I _could _very easily just disappear from the family. I could run off to some place like America or Australia or something and just leave the whole lot of them behind. Just like Hugo said, it's not like anyone would even notice or care.

I tell myself not to cry, but by the time I get to my room, there are already tears falling down my cheeks. I don't even know _why _really. I mean, I've heard _much _worse things since I've been back at Hogwarts. Not so much now obviously, as people are too scared of me to continue being mean. But that doesn't mean that they weren't evil before or that I'm deaf and can't hear what people whisper behind my back. So I don't know why I'm so upset _now._

Unfortunately, my room isn't empty when I get upstairs. I almost head straight for the toilet, but I don't. I just want to go to bed. Amanda's the only one in the room, and she's over by her bed looking through her trunk. She looks at me, but I ignore her as I strip my kit off and fumble around in my own trunk for something to put on. I find an old t-shirt and pull it over my head unceremoniously before climbing straight into bed and pulling the curtains tightly around me.

I shove my face into the pillow and try in vain to muffle the sobs that are now coming freely. I can hear the tension that Amanda probably feels, as there's no sound of her moving or doing anything else. I'm sure she's probably shitting herself with happiness. Seeing me cry probably makes her whole fucking _year. _Fuck. I try to make myself stop, but it's pointless. I can't do it. It seems the harder I try to _stop _crying, the more rapidly the tears fall. And with my face smashed into the pillow, I'm having trouble breathing as well.

I just want to die.

"Lily?" Amanda's voice comes softly and timidly. She sounds nervous, and I hate her more than ever.

I don't say anything. I just keep crying and completely ignore her. Then I hear footsteps, and her voice comes from right outside of the curtains.

"Lily, are you alright?"

"Leave me alone!" I say miserably, though I'm not sure she can understand me, as I speak straight into the pillow and my voice comes out all muffled.

But she doesn't listen. "Are you okay?" she asks carefully. "Do you want me to get someone?"

"No!" Then I let out a huge, audible sob, and my whole body starts shaking. She obviously hears it because she ignores my order to leave me alone and pulls back the curtain. I can feel her staring at me, but I don't lift my head. "Go away!"

She watches me cry for several more moments, and when she speaks again, she sounds even more nervous than before. "I'm going to get my dad."

"No!" I shout, and I finally lift my head and push myself onto my knees so that I'm looking at her. "Just leave me alone…"

Amanda stares at me, and she doesn't seem at all like she's enjoying it. I would expect her to be laughing and eating it up, but she isn't. She actually looks concerned. And I want to punch her in the face.

"You're going to make yourself ill."

"I'm fine!" I say hysterically, knowing fully well that I'm far from fine and that saying the words through a mix of sobs and hysterics is irony at its finest.

"You're about to choke to death on your own tears." Amanda stares at me pointedly. "What happened?"

"Like you care!" I roll my eyes hatefully. "I'm sure you're loving this!"

She looks like maybe she wants to snap back with something equally as hateful, but she doesn't. She apparently believes in taking the high road because she completely ignores my jab and conjures up a handkerchief for me. She holds it out, and I almost don't take it just to spite her, but the snot that's dripping precariously close to my lips makes me change my mind.

"It's almost over," she says quietly, and I look at her questioningly, wondering what the hell she's talking about. "Hogwarts," she explains. "It's almost over."

"Good riddance," I mutter indignantly. "I fucking hate this place."

"If you just ignore them, they eventually leave you alone."

I have no idea what she's talking about, and part of me doesn't care. Another part of me, of course, is curious. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The people," she explains. "When they're being bitches, if you just ignore them, they finally get bored and just leave you alone." She looks uncomfortable, but she goes on, though her voice strains slightly. "Trust me."

"Are you talking about me?" She obviously is, and she might as well just come out and say it. I'm at my absolute lowest right now, so it's the perfect opportunity for her to get all her shots in. But, irritatingly enough, she doesn't.

"You never left me alone," she says dismissively. "But that's you, isn't it?" I want to vomit. "The others, though, they're not as smart as you. They give up after awhile."

"And Hugo?" I challenge instantly. "When does he get bored and give up?"

She looks down at the floor and hesitates a few seconds as she collects her thoughts. "You hurt Hugo," she says quietly. "A lot. But…" She frowns and then shakes her head. "Give him some time. You know he's too nice to hold a grudge."

I roll my eyes again. "It's not his fault if he tells the truth."

She hesitates, and I can tell she's debating whether to ask. In the end, she does. "What did he say?"

I don't know why I answer. I suppose I haven't got anything to lose. Amanda could run and tell the whole school, and it wouldn't matter because they'd already know anyway. It was said out in public, and everyone will know by tomorrow.

"He said my parents don't care about me. He said they don't give a shit about anything I do, and he's right!" I wipe angrily at my eyes, furious at myself for getting so upset. "My whole family hates me!"

Amanda doesn't laugh or smirk or anything. She just looks sad for me, and I don't _get _her. "They don't hate you," she says sincerely. "And Hugo's just angry. He didn't mean that."

"Yes, he did. And he's right." I shake my head and rub at my eyes again. "And I deserve all of it because I do horrible shit like trying to sabotage my own cousin and blaming it on his best friend!"

She could say a million things right now, but she doesn't say any of them. She conjures a fresh handkerchief and holds it out to me. "Just go to sleep, Lily," she says quietly. "Tomorrow it won't seem as bad."

She closes the curtains around my bed, and I hear her going back over to her own. Once upon a time, we were best friends. That seems like a million years ago.

But when I lie back down, I sort of remember why.

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A/N: So I thought this story was going to wrap at 50, but it looks like it's going to go a bit longer than that. Anyway, thanks for reading, and I'll try to get the next one out soon!


	47. Scorpius, April 10th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 47

**SCORPIUS**

**April 10****th**

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I've spent so much time at the Weasleys' that I almost forgot what my own house looks like.

I mean my parents' house, of course, and it's certainly very different than Rose's. For one, it's about three times as large, which is saying something, as the Weasleys do not live in a small house to begin with. It's also worth mentioning that there are _three _children, whereas I am an only child. The only residents of my house are my parents, myself, and the house elf. But there's enough room in that house for six times that many.

It never really occurs to me how ridiculous the house is until I find myself looking at it from a slight distance one afternoon. My Apparition was off by about fifty meters, so I have to walk the remaining distance toward the house. It's funny, I mean, I grew up here my whole life, and I don't think I've ever once just looked around. There're just masses of land all around, and there aren't any other houses at all within viewing distance. Rose's house is in a crowded Muggle neighborhood made up of several large detached houses all on street after street of London suburbia.

When I make it to the front door, I feel sort of odd just entering, despite the fact, of course, that I've lived here my entire life. The past couple of years spent away, though, have made it feel more like my parents' home instead of mine. So I ring the bell formally and try not to notice the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. The doorbell chimes deep within the house, and a few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Bander, the aging house elf who has been employed here since before I was born.

"Young Master," he says with reverence, dipping into a low bow as he moves aside so that I can enter. "Welcome home."

I mutter a thanks and look at Bander curiously. Something else I've never really paid attention to was the employment of the house elf. Sure, he is paid the acceptable wage for elves, but it's still awfully demeaning for a living creature to do the full work of a servant for such low compensation. It's very nearly slavery. There are no house elves at Rose's house, of course, as one of her mother's earliest and most well-known accomplishment was the House Elf Liberation Act. Apparently she is very anti-using magical creatures as domestic servants.

"Would Young Master require a drink?" Bander asks graciously. I stare at him, he's so odd.

"No, thank you," I reply, trying to be as courteous as possible. "Do you know if my parents are home?"

"They are, Young Master. I will find them for you."

He disappears with a loud crack before I can thank him. I wait in the foyer, still feeling a bit unnerved. There's a huge family portrait that hangs right by the stairwell, and I study it for a moment. It was done several years ago, back when I was probably about ten. I wasn't happy to sit for it- that much is clear from the way I'm frowning excessively and squirming uncomfortably. My mother looks thoroughly annoyed with me and keeps shooting me warning glances before returning her face to its thorough beaming.

"Scorpius!"

Speaking of Mother… She looks pleased to see me, which is a slight surprise, considering the fact that she normally despises unexpected visitors. She hurries over to me and hugs me and then lays a kiss on my cheek.

"Darling, I didn't expect you today!"

"Hello, Mother," I say, forcing a smile and feigning happiness to be there. Truthfully, I'm dreading it, and I really want to just leave. But, of course, I don't.

"What brings you by?" she asks, shepherding me into the living room as if I'm an actual houseguest or something. I almost feel like I should wait to be offered a seat, but then I remember that I'm _not_ a guest, and I sit on the sofa. Mother sits down on the other end and turns her body toward me to give me her full attention- that's how she always does when she wants to pretend to be interested in something.

"I just haven't seen you in awhile," I say, shrugging a bit and looking down at the carpet. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she says, smiling her smile that she normally reserves for moments when she's trying to impress someone. "How are you?"

"I'm alright."

"And Rose? How is she?"

I'm not dumb enough to think that she actually cares, but she wants to A) appear interested and B) find out if there's any secret gossip I'm privy to that hasn't made its way into _The Daily Prophet _or her garden club.

"She's okay," I reply vaguely. "As good as can be expected."

"Good," she nods sympathetically. "That poor girl…"

I try not to vomit. My mother is very talented at latching onto ideas and people that she feels might prove to be beneficial. At one point, she hated Rose. Now she acts as if Rose is the long-lost daughter she never had. I don't buy it, of course, but I also don't say anything.

"They still haven't caught the person who did it?" she asks slyly, once again trying to get information out of me that she must think I possess. What she doesn't seem to realize, though, is that if the person who murdered the husband of the Minister of Magic was captured or identified, the newspapers would be all over it before anyone could even blink.

"Not yet," I say dully.

She sucks in her lips and shakes her head with exaggerated sadness. "That poor woman…"

So now we've gone from Rose to her mother. My own mother certainly doesn't support anything that Rose's mother does politically. But she is smart enough to know that it is in good habit to support the "ruling party" and at least pretend to be fans even if you are not. She is also smart enough to know that with power comes envy. I'm sure she puts on a fabulous façade around her girlfriends and flaunts my relationship with Rose as some sort of social standard. On top of that, I'm sure she probably pretends as if she's great pals with the Minister of Magic in an effort to make herself appear more powerful and popular than she actually is.

"I actually came to talk to Father," I say, changing the subject so that I don't end up saying something hateful that I will regret later. "Is he here?"

If she's offended by my sudden switch, she does a good job of hiding it. She simply plasters on her most generic smile and says, "Of course, darling. He's upstairs in the office."

I nod and stand up. "I'll see you before I leave," I tell her, feeling bad for maybe hurting her feelings. But I can't take the fakeness anymore. It's nauseating.

I find Father upstairs exactly where my mother said he would be. He's in his office, and when I knock on the door, I get a very short, "What?" in response.

I take that as my cue to push the door open slightly, and I look in carefully. Father looks up and is surprised to see me. He was expecting someone else, I suppose- my mother or the house-elf.

"Scorpius," he says, recovering quickly from his initial surprise. "Come in."

I enter the office and look around for a second. Growing up, I wasn't often allowed in here, nor did I make too many efforts to visit. I've been here a few times, of course, but it looks different now. I suppose I never truly appreciated the grandiose self-importance of it before.

"I didn't expect you," he says, pushing aside some papers that he's currently reading. "Is everything alright?"

I study him for a second, trying to gauge his sincerity. It's not that I think he's necessarily _in_sincere, but sometimes he does have ulterior motives. I can't imagine what any of those would be at the moment, though, so I try to look as normal as possible.

"Everything's fine." This time I _do _wait for an offered seat, and Father waves me towards a chair. I sit and then hesitate because I just now realize how incredibly awkward this is bound to be. Father stares at me expectantly, obviously waiting for me to announce my reason for visiting. When I say nothing, he finally speaks.

"Did you just drop in for a casual visit? Or was there a purpose?"

Well, leave it up to him to be blunt, I suppose. I should just suck it up and put it out there. I'm not leaving until I do. I won't let myself.

"I came to ask you something," I say, forcing the words out carefully.

Father raises his eyebrows. "Yes?"

How am I supposed to approach this? I ran over the conversation a million times in my head before I got here, but I seem to be blanking on all the scenarios right now. "Did you…" My voice trails off, and I swallow the knot in my throat. I just bite the bullet. "When you were a teenager," I say evenly, "did you join the Death Eaters?"

Father's face stays as stony as ever, but his eyes betray him. They flicker nervously for a few seconds, and then he looks away from me and stares out the office window. The silence is thick and terrifying, and I just sit there, too scared to do anything else.

"Yes."

The answer finally comes, and I'm not at all surprised. I already knew the answer, of course, I've known it for years. I was informed of my father's teenage allegiances when I first started school. Strangely enough, I've never once brought the subject up with him.

"Why?"

Father looks back over at me, and his eyes are darkened slightly and look annoyed. "Because I had no choice," he shoots back irritably. Apparently I've touched a very big nerve.

Still, though, I don't buy the excuse, and I'm no longer frightened enough to accept it. "You always have a choice."

"I was a _child."_

"You weren't five. You were almost an adult," I counter right away.

"Scorpius," Father is annoyed. I can see that clearly now. He opens his mouth to say something and then rethinks it. "There are things you do not understand. And thank god you'll never have to."

"What things?"

"It doesn't matter," he says shortly. "That's ancient history."

"It _does _matter!" I'm so frustrated, and he seems absolutely oblivious.

"_Why _does it matter? It hasn't got anything to do with you."

"It's got _everything _to do with me!"

"Does it now?"

And then I blurt it out. I can't help myself. "Did you watch Rose's mother be put under the Cruciatus curse in your living room?"

Father stares at me wordlessly for a long moment. There's a lot of uncomfortable silence, and I wish I could put the words back in my mouth and swallow them. I shouldn't have brought it up.

"Who told you that?"

I almost say Rose did, since that's technically the truth. Rose _did _tell me several months ago, and I have thought about it nonstop ever since. I never had the balls to say anything, though, but the other night I found her mum in the kitchen sitting at the table doing nothing. It was well after midnight, and after a few minutes of chatting, I asked her about it. For some reason I felt more at ease approaching the subject with her than I did with my own parents.

And she told me all of it.

"_We were children_," she finished pointedly. "_Your father did as he was told_."

And that was that.

Father's still staring at me expectantly, so I chew my lip nervously and then tell the truth. "Hermione did."

"Oh, you're on a first-name basis now?" he asks tauntingly. I ignore him. "And it's wonderful to know she's bringing up things that happened thirty years ago."

"I asked her."

"Oh, you randomly thought to bring up that exact scenario, did you?" He sort of glares at me, but I don't let him intimidate me.

"Rose told me. And I wanted to know the whole story." I pause for a second. "Now I want to hear _your _story."

Father stares at me. He's angry, but he is doing his best to not show it. He doesn't like to let his emotions become too visible because it makes him seem less than completely in control. After several long moments of irritating silence, he speaks calmly and coolly.

"It happened. I had nothing to do with it."

I already knew it was the truth, so I don't know why it hits me so hard. I guess hearing it from his own mouth makes it a lot realer. I look back at him unblinkingly, trying to process all of it and wondering what I'm supposed to do with it now. In a way, I wish I'd never found out. On the other hand, it's something I _need _to know.

"You didn't do anything," I say quietly. "You just watched."

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"You could have helped her." I feel my own anger bubbling up inside of me slowly but surely, and I try to employ my father's emotionless talent to the best of my ability.

Father laughs a cool little laugh. He shakes his head as if I'm some child incapable of understanding grown-up business. "Right," he says sardonically. "And be killed on the spot, of course."

"Who would have killed you?" I challenge. "Your parents? Grandfather might be a bastard, but I highly doubt he'd have you murdered."

"Perhaps," he shrugs carelessly. "My aunt, on the other hand, wouldn't have thought twice."

His aunt. Bellatrix Lestrange. A few months ago, I'd never even heard the name. I point this out. "You've never mentioned her. I've never even heard of her."

"And you don't need to," he says briskly. "She's dead."

"And?"

"And what?" He is quickly losing his patience. "She's dead. And if you ask me, the world's a better place for it."

I want to keep probing the subject of my grandmother's sister, but I don't. Instead, I go back to something more important- the whole reason I came here.

"How could you just stand there and watch someone be tortured? Even if you _hated _them?"

"That girl would have rather died than accepted my help," he shoots back, and it almost sounds like a hiss. I find this hard to believe, of course, and apparently Father picks up on that because he keeps right on going. "She hated me as well. They all did. It was very far from one-sided."

"She _could_ have died!"

Father doesn't look fussed. "But she didn't, did she? Nor did I. We're all still here, aren't we?"

"No."

I answer instantly and flatly, and Father looks at me curiously for a moment. He knows what I'm referring to. "Well, that's not my fault," he replies. And then, "Or is that what they're on about now? They think I killed Weasley?" He rolls his eyes disinterestedly.

"Do you think if they did that they'd let me stay there? Do you think Rose would have anything to do with me?"

He just shrugs. "Perhaps they're trying to _save _you."

I struggle not to scream in frustration. I don't understand why any of this has to be so difficult. "You should have made better choices," I finally say. And I stare at him unblinking.

Father, though, rolls his eyes _again. _"Spare me, Scorpius. I know that you think they were some sort of saints, but trust me, there was plenty wrong with them. They did plenty of things that other people would have been _arrested _for, but the whole world overlooked it. Because _Saint Potter _and his fantastically devout cronies could do no wrong. Trust me, I've heard it my entire life, I don't need it from you."

"You joined the Death Eaters," I say challengingly. "You could have done something different."

And now he speaks to me again in the same condescending type of voice he employed a few seconds ago. "Right. Except, you couldn't say no to the Dark Lord, could you? That's not how it worked."

I look at him contemptuously. I don't want to hear this. I don't want to listen to any of it. "You should have stood up for yourself."

For a long moment, I wonder if Father's even heard me. But then he starts speaking again, slowly and quietly. It's quite eerie. "My father was in prison. I did what I had to do to survive."

I didn't know Grandfather was ever imprisoned. Still, though, I don't even bring it up. I stay focused. "You didn't have to do _that."_

Father draws in a slow, laboring breath. "Imagine being sixteen years old," he says calmly, "and being told that your mother is going to be killed if you don't let someone burn a mark into your arm. Would you roll up your sleeve?"

His eyes burn into me, and I suddenly wish very badly that I'd never come here today. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything.

"I know you think I'm a horrible person," he goes on evenly, "but there are plenty of things you don't know. Plenty of things you're not going to learn from any of _them _as well." He says 'them' as if it's some sort of swear. "There are plenty of things _they _don't know, either. There are two sides to every story, Scorpius, and you'd do well to remember it."

I feel a little bit ashamed and sympathetic. But it's still so unfair. None of this has anything to _do _with me, and it's still got _everything _to do with me.

"I love her," I say suddenly, looking at my father very directly. He knows, of course, to whom I'm referring. "You know that, right?"

"I know you're infatuated with her."

"It's not infatuation," I say firmly. "I'm going to marry her someday."

"If she'll have you," he sneers breezily.

"She will." My voice leaves my room for argument, and he doesn't say anything. He just stares at me and waits for me to continue. "When that happens," I go on, drawing in a steadying breath, "I'd like for you to be there." Father looks disgusted at the mere thought, and I go on. "If you won't, though, I hope you don't expect me to choose."

"Have I ever asked you to choose, Scorpius?" he asks lazily. "Perhaps it's escaped your notice, but I have never told you who or who not to fall in love with." This is true. He hasn't. He hasn't ever been over the moon about Rose, but never once has he forbid me to be with her. "You aren't a child. You can make your own decisions."

"I care about her more than anything else in the entire world," I say honestly. "I hope you know that."

"Well, believe it or not," he drawls slowly, "I care about _you _more than anything else in the entire world. And I've never, nor will I ever, pressure you into doing something you don't want to do." It's the first time he's ever said anything like that, and I sit stunned in silence as he continues. "I know what it feels like, and I would never do that to you."

I want to say something profound right then, but he isn't exactly a person who accepts an outpouring of emotions well. So I don't. Instead, I just say, "Can you be happy about it?"

He's conflicted, and I can tell he doesn't particularly want to answer the question. Finally, though, he apparently decides honesty is just the best policy. "Do I wish it were someone else? Yes," he says flatly. "I don't like her parents, I never did. They never liked me. That will never change." His voice trails off slightly, and then he speaks up more firmly. "But that hasn't got anything to do with you or Rose. And if that's what you want, you shouldn't care what anyone else thinks."

I don't know what to say. I sit there for a little while longer and run the words over in my head again. I don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling right now, and I'm surprised to feel a pretty large mix of emotions. There're a million different things that I _could _say. But none of them feel like something he wants to hear. So I just say the first thing that popped into my head to begin with.

"Thank you."

He nods. He doesn't want to hear anything more. He doesn't want me to tell him how much it means or tell him how important his opinion is. He doesn't want me to tell him how much it means to hear him say that _I'm _important to him. He just wants me to understand.

And while I don't understand _everything, _I _do _understand more than I did before. I'll probably never fully understand, but at least it's something.

Something I didn't have before.

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A/N: For those who don't know, Draco's my favorite. So I always hope I do him justice. Thank you guys so much for reading, and I hope you're still enjoying it.


	48. James, April 16th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 48

**JAMES**

**April 16****th**

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I wanted to skip Easter this year.

I wanted to spend it lying on the sofa in my boxers drinking Ogden's and doing nothing. Or doing Kate. Whichever would be fine with me. I just wanted to skip it altogether and avoid everyone else. But then there's Kate. And she has this annoying habit of making me do what she calls the "mature thing." So, because of her, I'm sitting on said sofa completely dressed with no firewhiskey and waiting on her to finish dressing so we can head off to hell.

Or, you know, the Burrow.

Now, don't get me wrong. It's not that I've got anything against the Burrow or my grandparents in general. It's more that I've got something against the rest of my family who will be there in all their enormous annoyingness. And my parents, of course, will be there pretending as if they don't secretly despise each other and all of their children. And maybe I'm bitter, but sod it. My parents have not so much as sent an owl since the night they basically told me I'm the reason they're both miserable. Or, you know, my mum said it out loud- my dad just thought it, I'm sure. That was over three weeks ago, and clearly they don't give two shits about me or care anything about trying to fix it now.

So fuck them.

Needless to say, I'm not thrilled at the prospect of showing up for Easter dinner and looking them in the eye. Especially since I'm sure they'll both try to pretend as if nothing happened. They'll do this, of course, for the sake of appearing normal and pretending that our family isn't nearly as dysfunctional as it actually is. They can't hide Lily's insanity, as she put it all out there for everyone to see when she admitted to be the world's hugest bitch the night before my uncle's funeral. But they can do a pretty damn good job of hiding their own insanity and pretending like the rest of us aren't _quite _as fucked up.

Speaking of Lily, I assume she's home for Easter break, though I certainly haven't heard. I hope she is because I have a lot of things to say to her. And I don't buy her weeping remorse one bit. That girl is a bitch, and somebody needs to tell her. I'm glad Rose slapped the shit out of her that night- somebody should have let her do more than that. Oh, well, maybe I can talk Rose into it. She doesn't take much persuasion herself when it comes to being evil. And if I'm going to get dragged to this dinner, I may as well get some entertainment out of it.

Kate shows up. Finally. She's got on a new dress and new shoes, and her hair is perfectly flowing over her shoulders. She looks _beautiful. _But she always looks beautiful. Sometimes I get really distracted looking at her, which is ridiculous considering the fact that I've known her forever. But I guess it was always like that. I mean, I stared at her enough when we were in class to make certain aspects of puberty not so much fun. And then I stared at her after that, too, thinking about how hot she even looked in a Hogwarts uniform. And now I still stare at her, completely distracting myself from important tasks. Like standing up.

"What's wrong?" she asks, looking at me strangely.

Her words bring me out of my daze, and I shake my head. "Nothing."

"We need to go." She looks at me expectantly, but I grab her hand and pull her down into my lap. She falls easily and tries to look annoyed. "We _need," _she says slowly, "to _go…"_

"You are so hot, do you know that?" I ask lowly, letting my mouth drop lower to her ear. I move my hand so that it just barely grazes the skin of her thigh below her dress.

"Stop trying to distract me," she says, still feigning that she's annoyed. She listlessly pushes at my hand.

"You shouldn't be so sexy," I say, shrugging nonchalantly as my hand slides from the top of her thigh to the inside and rests there. She tuts at me, but she's easily distracted, too, and when my lips hit right below her ear and start trailing down her neck, she starts smiling despite her better efforts. "Let's just forget Easter and stay in bed all day…" My hand starts sliding further up her thigh, but it only takes her about two seconds to get her wits about her, push it away, and stand up.

"No," she says sharply. "We're going. Now come on."

I grumble about it some more, but I eventually do as she says and stand up. When I do, she smiles sweetly and reaches up to push my hair into what she apparently thinks is a better position. "It's going to be fine," she tells me confidently. "Besides, _I'm _the one who should be dreading it."

She says this because it will be the first time that she's met a good part of my family. Kate and I are in an odd position, as we're married but have honestly never dated that long. I know it just makes us sound rash and immature, but I don't care about anyone else's opinion on it. We got married because we're in love and because there's no point in putting off the inevitable when you never know what's going to happen tomorrow. Of course, a lot of other people don't see it that way, and I'm sure everyone's got their own opinions on how we're both just a couple of kids who ran off and did something stupid. It also doesn't help that outside of my immediate family and a few of my cousins who were at Hogwarts with me, most of the family has never even laid eyes on her. And the first time they _do _meet her will be a month after we've already been married.

"You shouldn't dread it," I tell her. "They'll love you. And if they don't, then fuck them."

"You really think they'll like me?"

"Who cares?" I say breezily, wrapping two arms around her waist and pulling her in a lot closer. "_I _like you…" I eye her pointedly as my hands slip over her waist and lower.

"_Stop," _she laughs as she pulls away and puts distance between us.

"Look," I say, sighing dramatically. "Rose likes you, okay? And she hates everyone… besides like Scorpius and Landon. So if you already made _her _like you, you'll do fine with the rest."

"You should be nicer to Rose," she says firmly. "She is nice."

I snort and can't help myself when it turns into a full-blown laugh. Kate just raises her eyebrows, and I have to take a second to get my composure. "Sorry," I say, still snickering a little bit. "You were being serious."

"James." She puts her hands on her hips and looks at me sternly. It's actually very sexy, but I don't say this because she obviously is in the mood to avoid _that _at all levels.

I have to struggle really hard not to burst out laughing again. "Rose is _not _nice," I say seriously. "When I was ten years old, she nearly killed me." Kate's face twitches, and I can tell she's trying really hard not to laugh. I'm serious, though, and I finish the story. "I was at her house, and I don't even know where she _found _it, but she put this gigantic spider down my shirt.And nobody even helped me because the only adult there was her dad, and he was terrified of spiders, so he probably would have just let me die rather than touch it. So I started screaming and had to strip off all my clothes while she stood there cracking up!"

Kate stares at me for a long moment, and then she can't take it anymore. She laughs harder than Rose did when it was happening, and I look at her incredulously. "James," she says, trying really hard to get the words out between her guffaws of laughter. "James, it was a spider, honey," she says, giving me a face of fake sympathy as she takes my hand and pets it. "She didn't almost _kill _you."

"If it was poisonous and bit me, I could have_ died_!"I protest immediately.

Kate just continues to smirk and then purses her lips and tilts her head. "Well, I am glad you're still alive," she says with fake seriousness.

I take it, though. "Thank you."

By the time we make it to the Burrow, the house is already filling up. I suppose we're a bit late, but it's total chaos by the time we arrive. The very first thing I see is Dora running so fast right in my direction that I don't even register the impact of her hitting me until a second later when I instinctively grab her arms to keep her from falling over.

"Maybe want to slow down?" I ask her, staring down at her questioningly as she looks up in a half-daze.

"I'm trying to hide," she says haughtily. Then she notices Kate and looks up at her curiously. "Who are you?"

"This is Kate," I answer for her. "She's my wife."

Dora pulls an awful face and looks horrified as she stares up at Kate. "You _married _him?! Ew, gross!"

Kate just looks at her, I'm sure in shock, but Dora runs off again without another word. I roll my eyes as she disappears. "That's Dora," I tell Kate lowly. "Teddy and Victoire's first mistake…"

She laughs a little but immediately stops herself and tries to pretend as if she isn't amused. Instead, she just smiles politely as my grandmother approaches us. She hugs me and then says, "And this must be Kate," in that grandmotherly tone of sweetness.

"It's nice to meet you," Kate says, and I can tell that she's nervous despite the fact that she speaks calmly and continues to smile.

"Kate, this is my grandmother," I introduce needlessly. It's pretty obvious that she's my grandmother.

"Molly," she further introduces herself. She smiles, but it's obvious that she's tired and that these sort of events are beginning to have an effect on her. She's not young anymore, and with everything that's happened recently, I'm sure she's completely worn out.

When Grandmum hurries off to greet the rest of the visitors, I dip my head next to Kate's ear and whisper, "One down, five-hundred to go."

Despite the fact that I'm sure a lot of people will have secret conversations behind my back about marriage, most everyone seems to like Kate, which isn't surprising at all because what's not to like? She's friendly and funny and completely down to earth. She's a lot different from the last several girlfriends that I've had, few of which have ever made it to a family get-together. It's exhausting, though, going around to everyone and introducing her. She seems to fall a little more at ease, but I can tell she's really overwhelmed. I don't blame her. My family is _huge, _and nearly everyone is here today.

One glaring absence, though, is my father. My mum is here, along with Lily (who is, in fact, home from school, looks pissed off at the world, and isn't speaking to anyone). Al dropped in for about ten minutes and then left. But Dad isn't here. If I were speaking to Mum, I'd ask her where he is, but I'm not. And she hasn't made any effort to speak to me, either. Besides, who knows if _she _even knows where he is? For all I know, they've split again. At this point, I don't really care.

This holiday, while packed with nearly everyone, still feels a bit off. It's because, of course, it's the first celebration or real family get together since the funeral. Everyone seems to be putting forth a bit of an effort to make things as normal as possible, but it's hard to forget when every time I see my godmother, she looks like someone's stabbing her in the gut. She's constantly surrounded, of course, and people are fawning over here and constantly bringing her tea and coffee and everything else, and sometimes she even puts on a fake smile. But then it inevitably fades, and she just looks sad again.

All her kids are here, and Hugo is acting just as strangely as Lily. They are certainly not speaking to each other, and I wonder what's going on with them at Hogwarts. Clearly they haven't found it in their hearts to forgive and forget (not that Hugo has any reason to), but it's making things very awkward for them at home. Hugo, though, is at least speaking to other people. It's difficult for him _not _to, as people seem to be just as concerned for him as they are for his mum. God, that would annoy me _so _much.

Rose corners us about halfway through the afternoon and drags us outside with her and Scorpius. Kate seems relieved, and I don't guess I blame her because I suppose it must be a relief to find some people who you actually know after spending that long meeting new people and trying to put names with faces and so forth.

"So," I say breezily to Rose as we grab seats around the empty outdoor tables, "I want you to kick Lily's arse."

Rose, though, just raises her eyebrows. "I am not touching Lily. I'm not even speaking to her. I promised my mother I wouldn't."

"Well, your brother sure isn't being too friendly."

"No, and I hope he makes her cry every day when they're at school," she answers honestly. "But not here. He promised Mum, too."

Damn. I was really counting on someone to put her in her place. Rose is useless to me.

She doesn't seem to care as she turns her attention to Kate instead. "So, are you going insane yet?"

"There's a _lot _of people…" Kate admits, frowning a little.

"Well, most of them don't even matter," Rose shrugs. "You'll only see most of them about twice a year, and then they'll only be interested in you if you're knocked up or getting a divorce."

Speaking of…

"Do you know where my dad is?"

Rose shrugs. "Nope. I haven't seen him in a few days."

She starts off on some tangent about something I haven't got the slightest bit of interest in. Scorpius looks thoroughly bored as well, but Kate seems entertained. So I just sit there and say nothing. I spend the whole time looking through the kitchen windows into the house and watching the various people come in and out, all of them apparently offering help, which is always shunned by my grandmother who insists on doing all the cooking herself. Eventually, though, she seems to notice me staring and waves for me to come inside.

"Grandmum wants me," I say, interrupting Rose in the middle of some long-winded story about god only knows what. She stops long enough for me to glance at Kate who smiles and nods, signaling that she's fine with staying out here and listening to Rose drone on. She must like her for some reason- a reason far beyond me.

I go inside, and the kitchen is empty except for my grandmother. "Can you reach me that canister on top of the cupboard there?" she asks as I close the door behind me. "If I Summon it, it'll probably tip over and spill everywhere."

I do as she asks and reach for a canister of sugar that's sitting far out of her reach. "Oh, thank you," she says as I hand it to her.

"Sure," I shrug. "Do you need any help?"

"Oh, no," she says, shocking no one. "I'm fine her. Just not quite as tall as I need to be." She laughs, and I smile. "You go back out there to that sweet young lady you've got." She tips the sugar into one of her pots and then waves her wand over it to bring it to a boil. "She's very beautiful."

I lean over the counter and put my chin my hand as I look out the window to where Kate is still listening to Rose drone on and on. "She is, isn't she?"

"You are lucky to find such a pretty girl," Grandmum goes on. "_And _she seems smart."

"She's very smart."

"Much better than those vapid girls you normally bring home." She shakes her head at me disapprovingly, but she's not being serious. Well, she _is _being serious about the vapid part, but she's not seriously scolding me for it.

"Your mother seems to think you're moving too quickly." She continues to bustle around the kitchen, and she sets some carrots to chopping themselves.

"What do _you _think?" I ask carefully.

"I think your mother should mind her own business," she says flatly.

I barely have time to smile before the door opens and said mother pokes her head into the kitchen. "Mum, do you need help?" she asks before she even notices me standing there.

Grandmum makes no indication of the previous conversation. "No, dear," she says kindly. "James is helping me."

Mum notices me then, and she looks at me for a long second before getting her wits about her and nodding. "Alright then."

But then my grandmother seems to get some brilliant diabolical idea and wipes her hands on the front of her skirt. "Actually, I do need to run upstairs for a moment. Ginny, can you watch the food?"

Mum already offered to help, so she can't very well back out now. She enters the kitchen just as her own mother leaves. There's strained silence for a moment, and then she says, "We need to talk."

I ignore her, wondering how she can even be serious with this. It's been nearly a month. A _month, _and she hasn't said a word to me. I don't even give her the satisfaction of a response, I just roll my eyes a little and turn away.

"James," she says, and her tone is a bit sharper. "I am speaking to you."

"Oh, is that what that is?"

"Don't get smart."

I stop and turn back around. "Are you _serious?" _I ask incredulously.

"Yes," she says without blinking. "I am speaking to you, I expect you to listen without turning away and walking off."

"You haven't talked to me in a month," I tell her slowly. "I don't know why you feel the need to pretend as if you care just because there are people around."

"That's a horrible thing to say," she says, not even stopping to listen to me. "And you know it's not true."

"No, I finally know it _is _true," I shoot back.

She looks frustrated, and she waits a few seconds to form her next thought. "I said some things I shouldn't have said. And I know you're angry with me-"

I cut her off. "I'm not _mad, _Mum. I don't _care." _She's bothered by this, but I just go right on. "I've always known it anyway, you just confirmed all of it."

"Known what?" she demands.

"Known that you blame _me _for ruining your life." I say it and don't even flinch. I'm so at terms with it that it doesn't even faze me at this point.

"That is _not _true," she says firmly. "I don't blame you for anything."

"Yes, you do." I shrug. "But it's fine. It is what it is. But you don't get to still treat me like I'm a child and make my decisions for me."

"I'm not _trying _to make your decisions for you," she says, ignoring the first part of my statement altogether. "I just don't want you to do something you're going to regret. You're so young…"

"I'm not _going _to regret it," I say. "I'm not _you, _okay? I didn't get married because I _had _to."

She opens her mouth like maybe she's going to say that she didn't get married out of necessity, either, but then she must realize that I'd know exactly how much bullshit she was actually spewing because she shuts it again.

"I am in _love _with her," I go on evenly. "And she loves me. _That's _why we got married."

"James-"

"I don't need your permission," I don't even let her get more than a word in. "I know you think I'm still a child you can order around, but I'm not. I can do whatever the hell I want _whenever _the hell I want. And you can either accept it, or you can fuck off."

She's outraged by this, I know. She doesn't even know what to say, and her mouth opens and closes several times before I finally just roll my eyes and leave. For real this time.

I don't go back outside, though. Instead, I take the door that leads into the house, and I'm surprised to very nearly run straight into Aunt Hermione who is headed toward the kitchen.

"James!" She seems just as surprised to fun into me. "I haven't seen you all day."

"I didn't want to bother you," I say quietly. I glance back at the kitchen door. "My mother's in there." I don't know why I say it- either to discourage her from heading in there and coming face to face with my mum or because I feel the need to make some sort of unadmitted confession about my mood.

It works because she doesn't make any effort to go any further. Instead, she just sighs and looks away.

"I told her to fuck off," I say out of nowhere, and I have no idea _why _I say it. Aunt Hermione looks at me with raised eyebrows, and I half-expect her to scold me for my foul language. She doesn't, though, and I go on. "Was I wrong to say that?"

"No," she says slowly, shaking her head just a little bit. "But she _is _your mother. It was disrespectful."

"Well, she was disrespectful to me!" I protest. "She lied to my face and told me she didn't blame me for anything." I don't know why she's trying to defend her after the awful things my mother said to _her._

I'm glad that no one else is around because it's not a conversation I particularly want to explain. Aunt Hermione doesn't say anything for a second. "She's trying to make amends." I can tell by the look on her face, though, that she's in no mood to make amends about anything.

"She's a liar," I say firmly. Then I look at my aunt and see how attentively she's listening to me, despite the fact that I know she feels awful. "You're the only one who gives a shit about me," I say honestly, staring at her seriously.

"James that's not true," she says, and I wonder if I've made her uncomfortable. "I love you, of course. But…" her voice trails slightly, "your parents do, too."

"They've got an awesome way of showing it," I mutter sardonically.

And then, as if the god of fate is pissing all over us, a loud popping noise from the sitting room is heard. Both my aunt and I turn around to see who has arrived, and I'm surprised to see that it's my father. He ignores most everyone and comes straight over to where Aunt Hermione and I are standing.

"I need to talk to you," he says lowly, and he doesn't even acknowledge me. Instead, he takes Aunt Hermione's elbow and starts to lead her away.

She stops him, though, and pulls her arm away. "Harry, what's wrong?" she asks solemnly, and several family members look on from down the corridor.

Dad glances around at the group of onlookers and then at me. He hesitates before saying whatever it is he has to say. But then he speaks. And the whole house seems to go silent.

"We made an arrest."

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A/N: To the people who felt that the last chapter seemed disjointed from the rest of the story, I understand completely. Reading back over it, I see where that might have sounded confusing and seemed to come from nowhere. I guess it was more cohesive in my head than it actually was on paper. Still, I think Scorpius needed to have that conversation with his father because they are at a point now far enough past the tragedy that it's time for them to start examining what went wrong to begin with. That's where it came from, and I apologize if it seemed out of place.

I hope everyone is having a good weekend. Be safe, and thanks for reading!


	49. April 19th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 49

**APRIL 19****th**

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They made the arrest on Easter.

She was advised to have no contact with him. She didn't listen at first and demanded to see the man accused of killing her husband. They couldn't say no, of course, because she was the boss. There was not a single person who outranked her, so when she demanded to see him, she was taken to Azkaban where he was being held until his trial.

When she arrived, though, she changed her mind.

Part of it was her distaste for the prison itself. She had always hated visiting the place. She hated the way it smelled, the way it felt, and the feeling of pure unhappiness that filled her each time she entered the doors. It was place filled with people drowning in their own misery. It was full of people who committed horrible crimes- including aging Death Eaters who were responsible for the death of her friends and who had tried to kill her as well. The people who had kidnapped her daughter several years ago were jailed there as well, and sometimes she thought about those people and was secretly tempted to use her position to do horrible, immoral things that she never dared speak aloud. There were other people, though- people who were wrongfully accused and wrongfully convicted and who were serving sentences for crimes that they did not commit. These people, like Sirius Black, were few and far between, but they did exist. She knew this firsthand from her many years in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

As Minister of Magic and as a former member of said Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she had no choice but to put her faith into the judicial system and trust that it would work. The number of people rightfully convicted far outnumbered the wrongfully, but even one person serving a sentence for a crime they did not commit was too many for her to sleep comfortably at night. So while part of her wanted to see the man accused of the murder, another part of her wanted to wait until after he was convicted to look in his face. If it was proven beyond a reasonable doubt that he did, in fact, kill her husband, then she would want to see him and demand an explanation. Until then, she would stay away.

Harry agreed with her. He told her that he honestly wished he had stayed behind when they went to make the arrest. It would have been better for everyone, as he found himself absolutely incapable of doing anything professional when face to face with the bastard. He, unlike her, was already positive of his guilt, and he actually had to be dragged away before he did something _completely _rash like murdering the other man with his own bare hands.

So she told him to stay away from Azkaban as well.

Harry dealt with differently than she did, though. He seemed to be filled with some sort of blind rage that was born from a desperate need for vengeance. He was _angry. _He wanted someone to pay, and he would be more than happy to be the one to make that person pay. But she didn't feel that way. She wasn't filled with a desperate need for vengeance. She just wanted _answers. _She wanted to know _why _someone would kill her husband and steal her children's father. She wanted to know what went on someone's head when they decided it was okay to destroy a family. And, she sometimes had to remind herself, Ron was not the only death by a long-shot. Her family was not the only one destroyed, and she wanted answers for all those other families as well.

But she knew she couldn't calmly get any of that when she was still as upset as she was.

More than a month had passed. Sometimes she thought it was getting easier. Sometimes things almost seemed normal. She could laugh at a joke. She could sit through meetings at work. She could teach Landon his school lessons.

But she still couldn't go to sleep without crying.

Every single night, she crawled into bed and lay staring at the empty spot beside her. Each night, she lost a little bit more of him. First, his indention started fading, then his pillow stopped being flattened, and now his smell was disappearing all around her. And every single night, she just lay there staring at emptiness, and then the tears would start. It was so cold without him. And so lonely. And every night, she'd find herself clutching the pillow that no longer smelled of his shampoo and burying her face into it.

"_Just one more minute," _she'd plead quietly. _"Please. I just need one more minute."_

She would beg for this. She would do her best to _will _him into appearing. But when she opened her eyes again, it was always still just a pillow. Despite her best efforts, she could not Transfigure it into a human. And even though she always knew it would still just be a pillow, she always let herself hope. And when her hopes were destroyed, her tears would turn into full-blown sobs that she couldn't contain or control, and she would smother her face into the pillow to muffle the noise so that her children wouldn't hear.

She just needed one more minute. She wasn't perfect, but she considered herself to be a good person. She'd always done things that she thought were for the betterment of the world. So she couldn't understand why someone couldn't give her _one minute. _She wasn't asking for forever. She wasn't even asking for a day. She just needed one minute so that she could just say goodbye.

There was so much that she needed to say. She needed to tell him that he was her best friend and that she loved him. She needed to tell him that he had made her whole life what it was today and that if he hadn't been there supporting her every step of the way, that she wouldn't have accomplished half the things she did. She needed to tell him that he was the best man she ever knew and the best husband she could have ever imagined. She needed to tell him that he was a wonderful father and that their kids were so lucky to have had him in their lives. She needed to tell him that she never doubted their relationship, not even in the middle of their hugest arguments. She needed to say all of that and more.

But if she could just say goodbye, she would be okay. She had faith that he knew the rest.

It wasn't fair that he was just ripped away from her so suddenly. When her father died, she'd got to say goodbye. She had held his hand and told him that she loved him and told him that everything would be alright and not to be scared. When her husband died, though, she was nowhere around. The last time she saw him, she passed him in the corridor of the Ministry and barely even acknowledged him except to ask what time he'd be home. She'd made him promise to be home in time to take care of Landon because she had so much work. He said he would, and then they'd gone off their separate ways, both in a hurry like they too often were. And the next time she saw him, he was in a casket.

So if she could have just one more minute, she could at least make their last moment better than it was.

But life wasn't like that. When you died, you died. There was no second chance. You didn't get one more minute, you didn't get one more _second. _When it was over, it was over. And all the people left behind had to suffer for it. She tried desperately to hold onto what she could, to contain his smell where she was able to and keep things in the order he left them. But she was terrified, as each day the smell faded a bit and each day things got moved a tad. She was horrified to realize that sometimes she could no longer hear his voice in her head, and she didn't know how she would cope when the day came that she couldn't hear it at all.

Her kids were coming to terms with it. She watched them carefully and often from a distance so that they didn't realize what she was doing. To the best of her knowledge, Landon didn't cry about it anymore. She watched as he latched onto Rose and, even more tightly, to Scorpius. Scorpius was a good kid and took it all in stride. She imagined that having a seven year old hanging off of you might be annoying, but if it bothered him, he never showed it. He was good to Landon and good to Rose. Rose still cried occasionally. It seemed to happen at the most random of moments, and sometimes she would just look up to see her daughter in tears when she couldn't place anything specific that may have caused them. Still, though, she was doing better, and each day, she seemed to look up a little more. But Rose wouldn't go back to school. She wasn't going to force her, but it bothered her to see Rose give up something so important. Still, she could partly understand what was going on, and she knew that Rose's hesitation was due in large part to fear, though she wasn't sure exactly from what the fear the stemmed. Hugo seemed to be alright as well. She wasn't going to pester him about opening up, but she could tell that things were better in his own personal life. She was nearly positive that he had made amends with Amanda, though she feared it would be a long time before he was willing to do the same thing with Lily.

She told the kids that someone had been arrested. Rose was angry when she was told that she could not have any contact with the suspect. Hugo didn't say much of anything. He just sort of picked at a hangnail and didn't really look up. Landon just wanted to know how long the murderer would be in prison.

The Ministry was abuzz with news of the capture, and every person she came into contact with seemed to have questions about it. She tired of answering them quite quickly and resorted to claiming that she had no knowledge whatsoever of any details. Of course, this just meant that more people started pestering Harry about it. He told her how exhausting it was one afternoon when he met her for lunch.

"Then lie to them," she said. "Tell them you don't know anything."

"It's just frustrating," he said, and she watched as he twirled the ice in his glass before taking a long drink. It wasn't normal for him to be drinking in the middle of a work day, but there were few things she considered normal anymore.

Their entire friendship was falling dangerously close to the line of abnormality. It was difficult for her to look at him without being reminded of Ron, and she knew, of course, that she caused the same reaction for him. Sometimes it physically hurt her to look at him because it just reiterated what was no longer there. She'd been part of a trio for nearly as long as she could remember, and she was finding out that without the third side, they were just two separate lines. And it was weird.

"Did you talk to James?" she asked, changing the subject away from anything that had to do with her husband or his alleged killer.

Harry looked up at her with slightly raised eyebrows but said nothing.

"He and Ginny had an argument on Easter."

Harry took another drink and then looked down at the table. They had both barely touched their food. He pushed some of the food around his plate nonetheless. "James doesn't talk to me," he said finally without looking up.

It frustrated her to hear something like that. In fact, it actually made her angry.

"Do you have any idea how much he needs you right now?"

But he didn't seem to want to hear that. "James is a grown man," he said sullenly. "He is old enough to make his own decisions."

"Well, he would benefit from hearing your opinion on some of those decisions," she said without bothering to sugarcoat it.

Harry, though, didn't seem too bothered. "If he wanted my opinions, he would ask for them. Trust me, James does not care what I think about anything."

"You're his _father!" _she said hastily. "Of course he cares what you think!"

Harry ignored her temporarily and instead lifted his glass into the air to catch the waitress's eye. They were in a Muggle restaurant because it was the only place they could escape to without having to answer people's questions and avoid the curious and pitying looks that people seemed to love shooting their way lately.

"Are you listening to me?" she asked, and she didn't care if her tone was short. He avoided her eye and still said nothing as the waitress came over with a fresh glass, which he immediately turned up. She stared at him incredulously until he finally met her gaze and sighed.

"James doesn't come to me for opinions or advice or anything like that," he said sullenly. "He doesn't want to hear it. If he's coming to you, then you should count yourself lucky because he certainly doesn't talk to me."

She wanted to slap him. Or strangle him. Or shake him. Or _something. _But she was too exhausted and too drained to do any of it.

"I already have three kids," she said weakly. "And my kids are going through _hell. _I can't take care of James, too. That's not my responsibility."

"You're right," he said, taking another long drink. "It's not your responsibility. He wants to be an adult, let him crash and burn. Ignore him."

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. In fact, she was fairly certain that her mouth literally dropped open. "I _can't _just ignore it when every time I look at him, all I see is just a kid in _pain." _She shook her head in disbelief. "_You _should do something. You and Ginny. He's your _child."_

"You don't get it," he said, shrugging. "Your kids don't do insane things like that. There comes a point where you have to step back and let them do what they're going to do."

"I'm sorry," she said sarcastically, clasping her hands in her lap and sitting up straighter. "Have you ever _met_ my daughter?" He looked at her but said nothing. "She has pushed limits since the day she learned how to _speak. _But I can't just give up on her. She's my _daughter."_

She watched as he continued to ignore his food in lieu of his drink. "You can't compare James and Rose. They're nothing alike."

"Actually, I believe they're a _lot _alike."

But he shook his head. "Rose does things because she's smarter than other people, and it amuses her to see how far she can take things. James does things because he thinks he's _better _than other people, and it amuses him to watch other people suffer for his drama."

She didn't know where any of this was coming from, and she was horrified to hear it. "Has Ginny not said anything to you?" she asked, ignoring his statement.

But Harry laughed, a dark laugh, and downed the remainder of his drink. "Ginny doesn't speak to me," he said listlessly.

And she just frowned and mumbled, "That makes two of us."

"At least she _wants _to speak to you." He rolled the ice in his glass. "She does everything she can to avoid having a conversation with me."

She didn't know what to say to that. It was true that Ginny had attempted conversation with her, but she continuously pushed her off. She wasn't ready to forgive and forget just yet, and even though it may have been petty, the wounds of her words still stung too deeply. But she wasn't going to have that conversation right now. This wasn't about her feelings for her sister-in-law.

She watched as Harry let his forehead fall forward into his palm. He pushed the hair at the front of his head back, and it started sticking up even more than average. "My life is shit, Hermione," he finally said, and he didn't lift his head or look at her. He just continued to speak quietly. "I'm just trying to make it to tomorrow."

She felt her eyes begin to water. Truthfully, she did not want to see him hurt. He was her friend. They had been like brother and sister for decades, and it hurt her to watch him in pain. She knew that he wasn't doing well. He loved Ron just like she did. Of course, it was in a very different way, but if there was anyone who could relate to her pain, she felt it was him. Still, though, she was too tired for this.

"My life is shit, too," she said dully, reaching up to wipe under her eye and try to make them stop watering. She saw him look up at her, and she just went on, forcing the words out even though they hurt just to speak them. "I can't sleep at night, and I don't want to get up in the morning… But I do." She sighed and bit her lip just a little bit to calm herself some. "Because if I don't, my kids are going to pay for it."

"Hermione-"

But she didn't let him finish. "I already lost everything else," she said, and she cringed as her eyes immediately began to water again, threatening instant tears. "I'm not going to lose my kids. I'm not willing to do that, and you shouldn't be, either."

"I don't _want _to lose them," he spoke up suddenly, and she could hear the hint of desperation in his voice. "But I don't know what else to do!"

"Just _be _there for them," she urged seriously. "They _need _you. James needs you, and so do Al and Lily." Her heart ached thinking about each of the kids and all the individual problems that they were facing separately. "Just be there for them, and help them make the right choices. Don't just give up on them…"

"I'm _not _giving up on them, but it's just…" His voice trailed as he obviously lost his train of thought. She looked at him for a few seconds waiting for him to finish, and when he didn't, she shook her head.

"James is in a good place right now. _Finally. _I want him to stay there, I don't want him to go back to the way it was…"

"What way?"

She rolled her eyes, knowing he wasn't _that _oblivious to his children's issues. "He's had problems," she said pointedly. "Alcohol, drugs, and promiscuity are _not _healthy coping mechanisms." She could tell by the look on his face that he thought she was crazy for using the word 'promiscuity.' She didn't care. "I think he's finally okay. But if you don't pay attention, things might get out of hand, and you might end up losing him for good."

She didn't come right out and say it. She didn't have to.

She didn't want to think about what could happen if James somehow lost control of his life again. He seemed better to her now. Better than he was anyway. But she wasn't naïve enough to ignore the fact that he had serious problems with substance abuse. If his parents looked the other way, fine, but she couldn't live with herself if she pretended that she didn't notice his dependence issues. He was richer than any person should ever be at twenty-two, and he had a frightening amount of means that allowed him to virtually live every single day in some sort of altered daze if he wanted. But with Kate, she didn't think he had that same desire anymore, and she was thankful for it. But it still scared her. People could turn at any instance, and with a problem as serious as his, she knew that better was a far cry from _cured._

And she wasn't going to lose him, too.

"Harry, you have to do something," she pleaded with him, now a bit more desperately. "Just tell him you care about him. Don't just _ignore _him."

But she could tell by the hesitant look on his face that he wasn't going to run off and start sharing his feelings openly and freely. He was scared, too, and she knew that, but he was a grown man. He had to step up and take responsibility for his children because she knew if he didn't and something happened, that he would never forgive himself. But she didn't know what else to say. She was too tired to say anything.

The food on her plate seemed to taunt her, and she felt a familiar ache in the bottom of her belly. She had no appetite and hadn't had for weeks. It was a mixture of natural hunger and nausea, and she didn't know how to deal with either- much less both at the same time. So she just pushed her plate away and left her food nearly untouched. Her water glass was also untouched. In fact, glancing around the table, the only things that seemed to have been touched were the three glasses of scotch that Harry had downed easily. The thought that he, too, might be heading for trouble made her feel even more ill than before.

So with that, she caught the waitress's eye and asked for the check. She threw some Muggle notes onto the table and told Harry she would see him back at work. As she left, she saw him order another drink.

The whole world was falling apart, and she was powerless to stop any of it. Every single inch of her seemed to hurt, and she wanted nothing more than to just go home and go to sleep. But she couldn't, she knew, because climbing into bed would only bring the inevitable tears, and she was too drained to cry at the moment. If things could just go back to normal, she thought wistfully, then everything would be alright. People wouldn't be miserable. _She _wouldn't be miserable. If she could just _see _him, maybe her heart would stop hurting so badly.

She just wanted one more minute.

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A/N: So for the people wanting Hermione's insight, I hope this helped you out. Thanks for reading!


	50. Al, April 21st

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 50

**AL**

**April 21****st**

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Life isn't exactly awesome at the moment.

My family hates me, I have no real friends, my girlfriend thinks I'm a loser… It's not exactly what I envisioned as the ideal life I'd be living at twenty. Of course, I brought most of it on myself, so I don't guess I can really complain too much. I mean, friends come and go, I suppose, and the ones I grew up with are all off doing their own thing all over the world. My girlfriend (who knows if that's even what she is?) thinks I'm pathetic because I "spend too much time wallowing" in my own misery apparently. And my family? Well, everyone in my family pretty much hates everyone else, so at least I fit in.

And then on top of all that, there's also the fact that I haven't even got a job. In the weeks since I quit the Auror department, I haven't done much of anything in the way of looking for one, either. There's nothing I want to do really, and it's easier to just sit at home and do nothing than it is to go out and try to pretend as if I have even an ounce of motivation. Of course, I don't have much money, and what little bit I do have is quickly running out. I have a trust fund, but legally, I can't gain access to it for another year. So basically I just have to live day by day and wait until I'm broke, I suppose.

Sounds fascinating, right?

Needless to say, in the midst of all the dramatic nonentities of my life, I was a bit surprised to find out that my sister apparently still likes me. Of course, I'm probably giving the situation more credit than it deserves. It's probably something more along the lines of… she hates being home and needs somewhere to escape. And seeing as how she hasn't exactly got too many fans of her own, she probably figured that misery loves company. Or at least I would imagine anyway.

So when she showed up at my door the first time, I was surprised. She tried to pretend as if nothing was weird, though, and just came in, propped her feet up, and started painting her nails. It didn't take long, of course, for her to start complaining about our parents.

Now I don't really know from firsthand knowledge, seeing as how I have avoided my parents' house like the plague over the past month or so. My father absolutely hates me, and he's made no secret of saying that I'm a failure and a quitter, even if he hasn't said it in so many words. My mother, of course, probably holds a grudge against me as well. But why wouldn't they? I mean, I'm just as bad as the man who was arrested, aren't I? Isn't my uncle's death just as much my fault?

But Lily doesn't talk about Uncle Ron or anyone's reactions to his death. She talks instead about our parents and how completely useless they've become. Something must have happened because she says they don't even speak to each other. I don't know which is worse- fighting or silence- but I sort of think silence because at least fighting is a way of _communicating._

I don't know, but I'd be willing to bet that part of the problem has to do with James and Kate. James told me that Mum and Dad aren't too thrilled with his decision to run off and elope (though who can blame them?), and he told me that he isn't really choosing to speak to either of them at the moment. I didn't ask for complete details because I figured he was sharing what he felt comfortable sharing. But now Lily's shown up, and all she ever does is talk about how strange it is to be at home and how she just can't stand it.

But I'm ready for her to go.

As soon as I walk in the door, I can tell that Lily's there. She's left the milk out on the counter, and there's a pink jacket tossed unceremoniously on the floor of the front hallway. I roll my eyes as I step over it and don't bother to pick it up. I'm sick and tired of her _shit _being _everywhere. _Sunday can't come fast enough so that she can get the hell out of here and go back to Hogwarts. In fact, she'll be lucky if I don't kick her out right now.

She's in the sitting room, passed out on the sofa with her head hanging halfway off the cushions. She looks like she probably hasn't moved all morning, and she's still in her pajamas. I glance at the clock. 3:28. Excellent.

"Lily," I snap, not bothering to try and wake her up gently. "Get up."

She doesn't give any indication that she's heard me at all or that she has any desire to move from her current position. I kick a stray shock that's somehow lying on the floor and not on her foot like its partner.

"Get _up," _I say again, and this time when she doesn't move, I kick the sofa, hoping to literally jolt her into waking up.

But she doesn't so much as flinch.

The room suddenly feels very hot and seems almost deafening in its silence. I'm too scared to move or to do anything, and I just stand there for probably a full moment until I force myself to move closer to the sofa.

"Lily?" I ask, and this time I speak quietly, though I'm not sure where the logic for that comes into play. "Lily, stop joking." She doesn't move. "Wake up," I tell her, a bit more loudly.

And then something snaps in me, and I start panicking.

"Lily!" I nearly scream, and I bend down over her, grab her shoulders, and literally shake her. Her head just flops lifelessly. She's breathing, though, I can tell that. But she isn't responding to me at all. "Lily, _wake up!" _

I shake her roughly now, and her eyes finally flutter. They don't fully open, and all I can see through the tiny slat of her eyelids is white.

She mumbles something that's completely incoherent. I try to understand her, but it's impossible. I'm not even sure she's forming actual words. I shake her again, though this time a bit more gently, and finally, I understand something that sounds like, "Think… took… much."

I don't know what to do. I have no idea. I have no clue if I've got time to get to the hospital or even what's actually wrong with her. I need to call my parents, but just as I drop her back to the sofa and run to the fire, I decide to call someone else.

Rose isn't thrilled to see my face, I'm sure, but she answers me anyway when I peek into her fire. She looks at me with raised eyebrows and says nothing.

"Rose!" I say, and I find myself inexplicably out of breath. "I need you!"

"What's going on?"

I just shake my head desperately. "It's an emergency!"

She hesitates for a second, but then she nods. I pull my head out of the fire, and a moment later, a familiar popping noise sounds right behind me. "What is it?" Rose asks, as she Apparates.

I don't have to even say anything, though, because she catches sight of Lily on the sofa almost immediately. "What the _fuck…"_

"I don't know!" I say, and I'm starting to get hysterical. "She must have taken something!"

Rose stares at her, and I can tell she's scared. But then she seems to snap out of it and goes over to the sofa.

"Lily," she says sternly, dropping to her knees. She gets no response, of course, so she goes my route and tries to shake her. "Lily."

"She won't wake up!"

"Shut up," she snaps me without even looking up. "You're freaking out."

I want to tell her that I have a good reason to freak out, seeing as how my sister's _dying _in my living room! But I don't. I just do as she says and shut up.

Rose stares at Lily for what seems like an awfully long moment, and then she leans over her and listens for her breath, I suppose. I can tell she's starting to get worried, but she does an amazing job of keeping it together. She leans up just a little bit and then pats Lily's cheek, saying her name.

And then she slaps the shit out of her.

It works, though. Lily's eyes fly wide open for two full seconds before they drop back shut. Rose shakes her some more. "Lily," she says sharply, "open your eyes." She grabs her chin and holds it tightly, speaking directly over her. "_Lily." _She jerks her head a bit. "Lily, open your eyes. What did you take?"

Lily mumbles something that is again completely incomprehensible. But she does manage to slur out the word "pills" in a barely understandable mess. There's no hope in finding out _what _pills, though, and Rose seems to realize this as well because she stands up with a look of anger on her face.

"_Fuck…" _she mutters to herself. She closes her own eyes and puts her face in her hands for a second. She seems to be thinking of something before she shakes her head and opens her eyes. She doesn't say anything else to me as she disappears into the bathroom. I can hear her opening and closing cabinets and running the tap, but I don't move. I don't think I _can _move. I just stand there and stare at Lily and watch as she doesn't open her eyes, doesn't speak, and doesn't even move.

Hours seem to pass before Rose shows back up, holding a cup of some purplish liquid. She must have mixed up some potion in the bathroom sink or something.

"Sit her up," she tells me, and I go around to one side of the sofa to lift Lily into a sitting position as Rose goes around to the other side with the potion. "Tilt her head back."

I do, and Rose pulls Lily's mouth open a little bit and then tilts the cup to it. She pours its entire contents down my sister's throat, and nothing happens. For about ten seconds. But then Rose steps back and tells me (a little too nonchalantly), "She's going to puke."

And she does.

It happens almost instantaneously. Lily's eyes fly open, and then she just starts heaving. There's sick _everywhere- _all down her front and on the sofa and the floor…. Then she turns her head to the side and proceeds to throw up on _me. _I don't know why I've still got her supported, but I cringe as the smell almost knocks me over. In fact, I even gag a little myself. Rose, though, avoids it altogether, as she had ample warning that Lily was going to explode.

She seems to vomit forever, and her whole body shakes as she continues to heave all of her insides out. Tears streak down her face, and I just continue to hold her in a sitting position, trying desperately not to let myself smell anything. I can't believe that Rose knew this was going to happen and couldn't manage to conjure up a bucket or something. But god, at least she knew what to do.

Finally, after what seems like _hours, _Lily stops puking, and she just sits there shaking a little bit. Her eyes are still tearing, and she looks worse than I've ever seen anyone look in my entire life. I try to balance her and smooth some of her hair away from her face, but Rose just looks angry.

"What the hell did you take?" she demands, glaring at Lily.

Lily mumbles something in response, but Rose isn't having it.

"_What?" _She looks so much like her mum that it's almost scary.

"Pills," Lily finally forces out, and her head seems to drop forward with exhaustion.

"_What _pills?" Lily doesn't respond right away, and Rose slams her hands onto her hips. "What _pills, _Lily?"

"I don't know!" Lily looks up for a second and then starts crying again. Rose seems less than sympathetic.

"Were you fucking trying to kill yourself or what?" she demands.

"Of course not!" Lily reaches up and rubs at her eyes desperately. "I think I just took too many…"

Rose rolls her eyes and then takes out her wand. She waves it in our general direction, and the various piles of sick disappear, though the stench still lingers heavily in the air.

"How do you _not _know what you took?" Rose asks hatefully as she crosses her arms over her chest and continues to stare my little sister down.

"I just got some from somebody before I left school," Lily answers cryptically. "I don't know what they were…" She is still crying a bit, and she's shivering.

Rose ignores her as she finally approaches the sofa again now that it's vomit free. She leans over Lily (who looks terrified that she's going to hit her again or something) and pushes her head back. She takes her own fingers and pries each of Lily's eyes open wide as she studies something. I've got no idea what she's doing, but apparently she does. Once she's satisfied that her eyes are okay, she picks up Lily's wrist and checks her pulse.

"That was really fucking _stupid, _Lily," she says, dropping her wrist and straightening back up. "You could have _died."_

My sister looks like maybe she wants to snap back, but she doesn't. Instead, she just lowers her eyes again and looks down at her lap.

"Are you going to tell on me?"

I personally think someone _does _need to know. But Rose seems to have other ideas. She rolls her eyes and throws her hair over her shoulder.

"Please," she says snidely. "Like your parents need one more thing to worry about. People have _real _problems. Nobody needs to spend time worrying about your stupid, fake, attention-seeking spoilt brat bullshit."

Half of me wants to tell Rose to shut up, but the other half is just grateful that she was there at all. Lily, though, actually looks hurt by her words.

"Why are you so mean to me?" she asks weakly.

"Because I'm sick of your shit!" Rose exclaims angrily. "You're not some fucking _princess, _Lily! And you're not some naïve little girl, either. You need to grow up and start acting like an adult instead of some pampered little brat!"

Lily doesn't say anything, and neither do I. I don't know _what _to say. Rose is right in some ways… but Lily is my _sister. _And right now, she just looks pathetic and pitiful. No one says anything for a long moment until Rose narrows her eyes.

"And don't even get me started on what you did to my little brother."

That's the strangest thing. Rose and Hugo have certainly never been close. In fact, I'm surprised that they even managed to make it this far without murdering each other. They are very different and have personalities that just seem to clash. Hugo, while maybe being the _nicest _person in our family, has always made an exception with Rose and has always gotten great joy out of annoying her purposely and trying to drive her insane. Rose, on the other hand, is _not _overly nice at all and has always done her best to torture her brother to the best of her ability. But all that's changed drastically since their dad died. Rose has turned fiercely protective over him, and she has no problems showing it.

Lily, for what it's worth, at least attempts an explanation. "Rose-"

But she cuts her off. "You need to go to bed," she says flatly, and then she looks at me. "Take her to lie down."

I don't argue with her. I just stand up and help Lily to her feet. She's wobbly and looks like she might fall over. Her eyes keep drooping, and I wonder if she's going to pass out right there. She looks tired enough to do just that, so I half-walk her/half-carry her back to the bedroom and help her get into bed. She doesn't say anything at all except a mumbled, "Please don't tell Mum and Dad," as she rolls onto her side and closes her eyes.

I'm exhausted and drained by the time I get back to the front. Rose is washing out the cup that she used for the potion and she barely looks up at me.

"The potion's going to wear off in a few minutes," she says dully. "Then she's going to sleep for probably three or four hours."

"Is she going to be okay?" I ask nervously, and I feel sick myself.

"She's fine. I had to substitute a couple of ingredients, though, so she's going to feel like shit when she wakes up." She pauses a second and then finishes with, "Serves her right."

I want to ask her if she can cut her a break for half a second, but I don't. I don't feel like hearing Rose go off on _me _as well. Especially considering that this is the first time she's even spoken to me in weeks.

"Should I do anything?" I ask, feeling worse by the second.

"She's going to have the hangover from hell," she says nonchalantly. "But don't give her anything. She doesn't need anything else until everything's fully out of her system."

"Thank you," I say quietly. "For coming… I didn't know what to do…"

Rose looks like maybe she wants to say something cordial, but then she gets her bitchiness back and just says, "Well, if you hadn't found her, she would probably have died." I don't know why she says this- whether it's to make a point or whether it's to make me feel pain at the thought of my sister dying. It's probably some of both.

"You saved her life," I say seriously.

Rose rolls her eyes and leans against the wall, seemingly bored. "Well, it's good to know my education isn't going to waste…" she says sardonically.

"Rose, what are you doing?" I just flat out ask. "Why are you still here instead of back in school? That's where you need to be."

She sort of glares at me, and I half-expect her to shout at me. She doesn't, though. She keeps her voice level and even. "I _need_ to be with my _family. _There are things more important than school."

"But you're throwing your whole future away!"

"Maybe I don't want that to be my future," she snaps back.

"Being a Healer is all you've talked about for _years," _I tell her pointedly, and she looks even more annoyed as she glares at me some more. "I don't understand what changed…"

"Um, my father died," she says hatefully. "I almost lost my boyfriend… I pretty much hate ninety-eight percent of the people there… Do you want me to go on?"

I don't know what to say to any of that or what any of that has to do with her giving up on something she wanted desperately just a year ago. I just shake my head. "So? Ignore the people there and do what you're there to do. You know they're probably just jealous of you anyway." She purses her lips and says nothing. I try to think of what else to say. "And your dad wouldn't want you to give up," I say carefully, not knowing if mentioning her father is going to throw her into a rage and also feeling guilty for even bringing him up myself. "And Scorpius…" I hesitate, "Scorpius is always going to be there for you no matter what, and you know it."

Rose doesn't say anything still. She just crosses her arms again and looks away. I don't really know what I've got to lose right now, so I just go for it.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Elisabeth."

This seems to snap her out of it because her head turns back to me, and her eyes blaze a little. "She's my best friend!"

"Rose," I sigh a little, "you don't even _talk _to her that much anymore…"

"Well, she used to be!" she says hastily. Then she huffs. "And you should have told me."

"I know," I say slowly. "I just… I don't know why I didn't tell you." I don't tell her that it's because she hasn't spoken to _me _that often over the past couple of years, either.

I want to apologize for other things, too. Things that I still can't say out loud without wanting to die. I know not to bring it up, though, because Rose can't take it. She doesn't want me to mention it, I can tell.

"But…" my voice trails as I try to find the right words. "I miss you…" I admit quietly. "I want us to be friends again."

And as stupid and sappy as it sounds, it's true. Rose and I may have drifted apart, and she may have annoyed me greatly over the past couple of years… but that doesn't change the entire rest of our lives. Rose has always been my best friend. She's always been the only person in the world who I trusted completely- who I could tell anything.

But now, it's not like that anymore. And that hurts.

I miss Rose. I miss her a _lot. _I pretty much feel like every part of my life is shit right now, and I wish there was _somebody _to talk to. There's Elisabeth, of course, when she isn't avoiding me, but it's different. She can't relate to the situation. She doesn't _know _my family and doesn't _know _what it's like. Rose is one of the few people in the world who can actually understand it, and I miss having someone there who can listen and make sense of what I'm saying. I just miss _her._

Rose looks up, and she looks really sad all of a sudden. She doesn't say anything for a few moments, and then she just frowns miserably. "I really needed you," she says softly.

I feel like shit. I feel like the worst kind of cousin, the worst kind of _friend _imaginable. I haven't been there for her at all. I haven't been there for _anyone. _But it's hard. It's harder than she or anyone else knows. I can't look at any of them without seeing _him _and without feeling so guilty I can barely stand it. I can't sleep at night because every time I close my eyes, all I see is that bright green light.

I don't know why any of this happened.

I don't know why I'm still here, and he's not. I don't know why he showed up and jumped in front of Avada Kedavra for me. I don't know any of it. All I know is that it happened and that my whole life is in ruins because of it. I want things to go back to normal, but I know they won't. I know they can't. I want Rose to be my best friend again, but I know every time she looks at me, all she sees is the person who got her father murdered. And it sucks. It really, really does.

And I don't know what to do about any of it.

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A/N: Thank you for reading!


	51. Hugo, April 21st

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 51

**HUGO**

**April 21****st**

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The Leaky Cauldron is _packed _by the time I get there.

It's not surprising really, seeing as how it's Friday night, but it's still annoying. I hate going into big crowds like that, especially now. Everywhere I go, people want to give me fake sympathy and pretend like they care when really all they're trying to do is be nosey. That's why I keep my head ducked and to the floor the whole time while I'm pushing my way toward the bar. Luckily it works, and no one even seems to notice me. There are people standing all over the place, waiting for a seat or a table. Most of them are just fine, but a few of them are already well on their way to getting wasted, and it's so loud that I practically have to scream by the time I finally make it up to the counter and manage to grab Hannah's attention.

She smiles when she sees me, but she looks _very _tired. She ignores about six paying customers who all have something to say as she walks up to me instead. I think people recognize me then, though, and I sort of just want to disappear.

"Is Amanda here?" I ask loudly, trying to be heard over the continuous buzz of the pub.

Her mother nods and points upwards, I guess in case I can't make out her words when she replies, "She's upstairs."

She opens the latch to the bar and lets me slip back. A few people moan something incomprehensible- I'm sure they think I'm getting special treatment or something. Hannah snaps at them to shut up, and it works.

"I think she's in her room," she tells me once I'm closer. I nod and then she says, "How's your mum?"

Because I know her sympathy isn't fake, I actually answer her honestly. "She's okay. She's just worried, you know, about the trial."

Hannah nods and frowns a little bit. "Well, tell her I'll drop by sometime next week when things calm down here."

I nod and try to smile a thanks before heading toward the back of the pub to the stairwell that leads upstairs. The soundproofing spells on this place are ridiculous because as soon as I make it up to the flat, I can't hear _anything _from the pub below. In fact, I don't hear anything at all. The whole place seems silent as I head towards the back where Amanda's bedroom is. Her door's cracked open, so I just knock a couple of times before pushing it open slowly.

And… she's asleep.

I almost don't wake her up, but then I check my watch, and it's only 8:13. She needs to get up. So I stand over her and tap her forehead in a very annoying way. It works, and her eyes open almost immediately. She looks at me and then rolls over to her back.

"What're you doing?" she asks, and she sounds surprisingly coherent, so I can only assume that she just dozed off and hasn't been asleep for too long.

"What are _you _doing?" I ask, dropping down to her bed carelessly. "It's eight o'clock."

"I guess I fell asleep," she says sarcastically. I thump her forehead again for good measure, and she sits up.

"How'd you get out of working?" I ask. "The pub is _packed."_

"I lied and said I was revising. NEWTs are just over a month away, you know…"

I groan. "Don't remind me." She shrugs. "But you're not _really _studying, are you?"

"Hence the _lying _part…"

"So let's go somewhere."

She looks at me less than enthusiastically. "Go where?"

I shrug. "I dunno. Have you eaten yet?"

"No."

"Then let's go get dinner."

But Amanda doesn't seem too into it. "We could just eat here."

"Or," I say firmly, "we could go to Mondun's. I'm bored."

"I can tell." She rolls her eyes.

"You can nap later," I tell her. "C'mon, we've only got one day of vacation left. As soon as we get back to school, we really _are _going to have to start caring about the NEWTs."

"Fine," she gives in with a loud sigh as she gets up and starts looking around for some shoes. "But we have to sneak out and Apparate because if I go downstairs, and my mum sees that I'm not revising, she'll make me work."

I nod.

A few minutes later, we find ourselves Apparating to an alley behind the little Muggle café that we discovered several years ago and have been frequenting ever since. There's nothing particularly special about it except for the fact that it has the _best _desserts in the entire universe. They beat out anything served at the Hogwarts feasts by a mile, and that's saying a _lot. _In fact, when we go in and grab a table, we bypass the dinner menus altogether and head straight for dessert. It's what we always do. We decide on a Chocolate Volcano (which is really just a _huge_ chocolate cake with tons of fudge and cherry sauce) and order a couple of drinks to go along with it.

The drinks and the cake arrive shortly, and we waste no time tucking into it. I love chocolate. I mean _love _it. Amanda likes it, too, but she can't handle quite as much as I can. So even though we're sharing the "Volcano," I eat way more than her. I feel slightly guilty since she's the one who hasn't had dinner, but… I'm hungry.

"So," I tell her through a mouthful of chocolate. "Guess what."

"Ummm…" She pretends to think. "I give up."

Apparently she isn't very good at the guessing game, so I just tell her. "Lily took a bunch of pills and almost died."

Amanda's fork stops halfway to her mouth, and she stares at me in shock. _"What?" _

I take another bite and nod. "Yeah. And Rose had to give her some potion to make her puke it all up. She says she doesn't even know what she took."

When Rose got home and told me the story, I thought she was joking at first. But then I saw how pissed off she was, and she's not that good of an actress. I didn't know what to think, much less what to say.

"Did she do it on purpose?" Amanda's first question was my first question as well. I asked Rose almost immediately, and she just rolled her eyes.

"She said it was an accident," I say. But I don't know how much of that I believe.

Do I really _think _Lily would take a bunch of unidentified pills on purpose? Well, if she was going to do that, she'd have to be suicidal. And if there's one thing I know about Lily Potter, it's that's she's selfish and _hates _losing things she loves. And since she loves _nothing _more than she loves herself, I doubt very seriously that she's trying to kill herself.

But still. You've got to be pretty fucking stupid to do something like that.

But I guess I'm not all that surprised. I mean, Lily likes drugs. A lot. She doesn't discriminate when it comes to them, either, and she'll take or do just about anything anyone gives her. So it's not really shocking that she'd randomly take some pills without knowing exactly what type they were or what the recommended dosage was.

Amanda seems to be under much the same train of thought as I am. She says nothing for a moment, and then shakes her head slowly. "She's lucky she didn't get hurt…"

I don't know _why _Amanda's being halfway decent when talking to or about Lily lately. I mean, she isn't her hugest fan, and they certainly aren't best friends by any means… But she isn't being nearly as vengeful as she normally is, which sucks, of course, because I'm finally ready to join her in the Lily-bashing. But I don't know. Maybe something happened. I'm sure they wouldn't tell me even if it did. Girls.

We finish off the cake, but we only order one. Anymore, and we'd go into a definite sugar shock. Of course, we don't exercise that same strategy with our drinks, and one drink quickly turns into two. A couple of shots quickly turn into several. And before long, we're both well on our way to being properly pissed. We realize, of course, that it would be more appropriate to head into a pub rather than get drunk in a quaint little café… But we really don't care that much.

Things start getting a little bit funny around the fourth or fifth round of shots. Amanda starts getting flirtier, and she starts laughing over everything. At first I'm not sure if she's just finding everything amusing or if she's actually doing the girl giggle thing. She's honestly the coolest girl I know, so it's very easy just to laugh and joke with her. But at one point, she ends up kissing me. It isn't anything huge at first, just a quick peck. She doesn't even seem to notice and goes right back into her laughing and joking.

But I notice.

I know she said we were just going to be friends and nothing more, and I was okay with it because all I wanted was her just to forgive me and start speaking to me again. But honestly, I really like her. Like a lot. And it's hard because she's my friend, you know, and it just makes everything weird. If I push it, I could just end up fucking up again. But it's difficult to always be around her and feel this way, too. It's strange because I never even thought of her that way for so many years, but once I started thinking that way, it became really difficult to stop. I want her to be my best friend… but I want her to be something else, too. And it's driving me insane.

And I'll plead insanity for what happens next. We have another round of shots, and by now, I feel completely gone. So it isn't all that surprising when _I _kiss _her. _Only this time, it's not just a quick peck. She kisses me back, and pretty soon, it's full out snogging right there in the café booth. I guess we're both too drunk to care about the disgusting nature of PDAs, and it's not like there are too many people around anyway, as the café certainly isn't crowded. And I won't lie. I really, _really _like making out with her. I liked it the entire two weeks or so that we did it back in February. So it's pretty amazing actually.

And when we finally pay the tab and stumble out into the street, we're _still _going at it. Part of me feels a _tiny _bit guilty because I know she already said that this wasn't going to happen. But a bigger part of me says logically that it _is _happening. And that she's _letting _it happen. So what am I supposed to do? Stopping wouldn't be fun for anyone, and surely if she didn't _want _this, she wouldn't be doing it, right?

Right.

"Hugo," she finally pulls back just a half an inch, and she's more than a bit breathless. I look at her silently with raised eyebrows, and she smiles a little. "Let's go somewhere."

"Go where?" I don't know where she wants to go. It's not as if we are normal teenagers who might pop off to a nightclub for the evening or something. The extent of our rebellion pretty much lies in a few rounds of shots in a corner café.

But Amanda shrugs and shakes her head. "We can't go to my place, Mum'll put us to work for sure."

Oh, so she just wants to go home. Okay, that's better. "Um," I shrug, "we can go to my house if you want." I try to sound casual, but I'm sure it comes across as nearly as desperate as it feels. I just want to get back to kissing her quickly.

"Your Mum won't care?"

I roll my eyes. "No. If she even notices, that is. Are you kidding me? Scorpius _lives _there."

Amanda smiles, and then we're making out again right there in the street. I really don't know what's going on or even how it started, but I don't particularly care, and when we get back to my house, I'm even less eager to spend time trying to rationalize it.

My house has always had strict security measures attached to it, and those got even stricter after Mum was elected. Since Dad died, though, they're beyond insane and _nobody _is allowed to Apparate straight in (not even my family or me), so we have to land a few meters off in the backyard and head to the door. I let us in through the backdoor, but I quickly realize I should have used the front door.

Mum and Landon are at the table doing schoolwork. I glance at the clock, and it's nearly ten-thirty. It's awfully late for maths, but I'm not too surprised. Mum's super busy, and now that she's doing everything on her own, lessons have to be fit in wherever possible. I'd be willing to put money down that next term, Landon ends up in Muggle school.

"Uh, hey," I say awkwardly, determined not to let on that I'm completely pissed out of my head. I hope my eyes aren't glazed or red, and I hope Amanda has enough sense to act as sober as possible. I don't really know _how _Mum would feel about us being drunk, but I'm sure she'd like it more if we weren't.

Mum eyes us for a second and then smiles vaguely. "You guys are out late."

Again, this is testament to the fact that we're not normal teenagers who are generally pumped for club hopping or anything like that. It's not even eleven o'clock. Still, I suppose it _is _rather late for us.

"We went to dinner," I say, focusing on appearing as sober as possible. I'm not sure how much of it she's buying, but she doesn't mention it.

"Do your parents know you're here, Amanda?" she asks, ignoring me altogether.

Amanda's response is delayed just a second, as she clearly wasn't expected to be grilled. Still, though, she manages to reply without sounding too terribly wasted. "Um, my dad's back at school. And my mum… the pub is really packed."

This isn't exactly an answer, and I half-expect Mum to point this out. She doesn't, though. She just nods a little bit and looks back down at the book that she and Landon are working on.

"Okay," I say timidly. "We're going upstairs…"

Mum nods distractedly, but she doesn't really pay us much more attention as she helps Landon with his fractions. We take that as our cue to escape and hurry out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second floor. The door to Rose's room is shut, and the lights are out. Either she's already in bed, or she isn't even here. I try to remember if Scorpius has a match tomorrow, but I honestly have no idea. Perhaps he does, though, and maybe they're in Tutshill. I don't know. I don't particularly care, either, as long as I know there's no chance of Rose barging in and interrupting us. And although I'm not entire sure _what _she'd be interrupting, I find out fairly quickly.

Amanda wastes no time in getting right back into the thick of where we left off. Only this time, we're alone in my bedroom and not on some crowded London street. And we've never been alone in a bedroom before… Well, obviously that's a lie, as we've been alone in bedrooms loads of times (just a couple of hours ago actually). But it's the first time we've ever been alone and _kissing _in a bedroom.

And those two weeks in February come rushing back quickly.

Amanda is _very _into it, and her hands start seeking out places they've never before purposely touched. And I can't lie and say I don't like it because obviously I _do _like it. But still, there's this voice in my head that keeps saying over and over again how this is exactly what she said _wouldn't _happen. But the other voice in my head keeps saying the same thing it's been saying since all of this started- she's _letting _it happen.

I don't know how we end up on the bed, and I don't really care. All I know is that is that apparently she either has great instinct or she has a lot more experience than I previously knew about. Because she seems to know _exactly _what to do. And the next thing I know, she's rolled over on top of me, and her shirt is lying somewhere at the foot of the bed. I barely even have time to process this thought before she renders me absolutely thoughtless by rolling her hips against mine in a way that is _definitely _note-worthy.

I'm sure I don't have to tell you that with the lack of blood now circulating in my brain, all rational thought becomes ridiculously difficult. If anything, it's impossible. All I can think about is how to keep her hips doing exactly what they're doing without exploding right there. That's all I _want _to think about- that and how to get the rest of her clothes off. Even as I think it, I know it sounds horrible and childish and just completely awful. But I can't _help _it.

And from the looks of it, _she _can't help it, either.

"Hey," she whispers breathlessly, just barely coming up for air long enough to start tugging at the bottom of my shirt and forcing me to lean up so that it can be slipped off easily. "You know how to do everything, right?" I raise any eyebrow at her, and she clarifies. "The spells and everything…"

The spells. The contraceptive spells. I almost laugh at the irony. I know she's asking partly because it's the responsible thing to do, but mostly because I could have potentially impregnated a girl earlier this year. But really, it's not that funny, and if I were any good at the spell, I wouldn't have even considered the fact that I was going to be a father. But I say none of this. Instead, I just nod.

"Yeah," I say simply. There's nothing else to say.

"Good," she says eagerly, reaching over me for the wand that's been carelessly dropped just out of reach. She hands it to me and looks at me expectantly.

And I look at her.

She's without her shirt, of course, so her skin is easily viewed. She's flushed with nerves and excitement, and her eyes are nearly almost bouncing. Her dark blonde hair is messy and everywhere out of place. And she looks ridiculously cute. And I'm about to have sex with her.

I'm about to have sex with my best friend.

And that's when I know I can't do it. I stop making any move to get things started up again, and she just looks at me expectantly. I can tell she's confused, and I don't blame her. Hell, _I'm _confused. I don't even know what's wrong with me and why I can't just be normal and throw caution to the wind and have done with it. But I can't.

"What's wrong?" she asks, and I sort of hate myself because I can tell from the tone of her voice that she's suddenly self-conscious and probably thinks I'm halting everything for some stupid superficial reasons. Girls are so weird about that sort of thing.

I try for several seconds to force the words out, and finally I manage, though I'm sure I sound like a babbling idiot. "I don't think we should do this…"

I can tell that Amanda thinks I must have lost my mind. Well, shit, for all I know, I very well _may _have lost my mind. I mean, what the fuck is even going on here? But I know what's going on. I may not like admitting it, but I know what's going on, and I know why this can't happen.

"Are you serious?" she asks, and her voice is quiet and half-shocked. She sounds like maybe she wants to hex me, and I can't say that I blame her too much. I don't say anything for a second, and she shakes her head in disbelief. "Are you fucking _serious?"_

"I just…" I swallow a couple of times quickly, trying really hard to get the blood _back _to my brain so that I can form a coherent thought. "We're drunk."

Amanda's eyes are wide as she stares at me, and I kind of know exactly what she's thinking. Still, though, she doesn't seem to be able to form too many of her own coherent thoughts because she just repeats her earlier sentiment. "Are you fucking _serious?"_

"But you said…" I want to take it all back and just get back to the quest for nakedness. What the hell is _wrong _with me? But no. No, I _know _what she said. "I don't think you'd want this if you were sober." I say it quickly and try to get straight to the point.

I sort of expect her to hit me or hex me or, at the very least, start swearing at me. But she doesn't do any of it. I actually wish she _would, _though, because it would be nicer than seeing the look on her face. She looks… _sad. _And confused. And I wish I didn't even mention any of it.

"Amanda-" I sit up a bit and lean on my elbows. She sits up, too, and pushes some hair behind her ears before apparently becoming very self-conscious of her lack of clothing and crossing her arms. "Look," I stutter about, "I mean, if you _want _to…"

"I don't know what I want," she mutters, and she looks down to avoid eye contact.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly, though I don't really know what I'm apologizing for. "I… I mean, it's up to you. I just… I just don't want you to think that I'm…" I don't know the right words, "taking advantage of you or something."

I know it sounds stupid, and so does she. We both know that it would never actually _be _like that. But I guess she knows what I'm saying. She stares down at the bed for a long moment and then moves to get up. She picks her shirt up and pulls it over her head, messing up her hair even more. My whole body feels like it's going to explode, as if it's been personally betrayed by my head and my mouth. I suppose it has.

"Let's just…" she shakes her head and pushes some of her hair away. "Let's just forget it, okay?"

"Amanda-"

But she cuts me off. "No, we'll just… We'll just figure it out, okay?" She speaks hastily and nervously, and I sort of get the feeling that we won't be figuring _anything _out. But I say nothing. I just swallow and nod and try really hard not to notice the sharp _pain _that my body's in.

Amanda leaves then. She goes back downstairs and back into the garden, I suppose, so that she can Disapparate. I want to die. Literally. I don't know why I'm so fucking abnormal that I can't just fuck a girl when I have the opportunity. I always screw _everything _up. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

Now not only am I _not _getting laid, I've probably succeeded in making things so fucking awkward that Amanda's probably never going to speak to me again. She's probably going to avoid me at all costs because she'll be so embarrassed. And I just got her back.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

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A/N: Sorry for the delay, I got backed up with my work again. I think I'm all caught up now. Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter!


	52. Kate, April 29th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 52

**KATE**

**April 29****th**

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It seems like I learn something new about James every single day.

Like yesterday, I learned that he hates caramel-flavored anything. He doesn't mind _real _caramel, but he's absolutely against any and all caramel _flavoring. _I didn't know this. It's one of those things that a wife should know about her husband, and I'm glad I can store it away in the little corner of my brain reserved for those little details.

Sometimes, though, I learn things that aren't as inconsequential as preferred sweets. Sometimes I learn really important things, really _deep _things that he doesn't usually readily admit. Sometimes I learn a whole slew of things at once, and sometimes they're things that I've already suspected for awhile but that just come tumbling out when he doesn't mean for them to. And some of those things really explain a _lot._

For instance, who knew that James harbored so _much _disdain for his family? I mean, obviously I've known him forever, so I know he's always had that stupid resentment thing that most spoilt rich kids tend to have- the kind where their overindulgence inevitably comes back to bite them in the arse and leaves them incredibly bitter and with the need to blame someone for their own stupidity. Then I saw his family firsthand and saw that maybe he wasn't exaggerating too much when he said that they were dysfunctional. I also sort of started thinking that his mother was a huge bitch…

But that's one of those things you can't say to a man. Or to anyone really. You can't just go, "So, yeah, your mum's a bitch," because it's definitely one of those situations where it's alright for _you _to say something like that but a world-class sin for someone else to say it. But needless to say, I don't particularly feel too welcomed by my new mother-in-law. And I don't feel anything at all about my father-in-law except intimidated.

But James, I guess, feels a lot more.

He's a man, you know. A cocky bastard sort of man at that. He doesn't make a habit of running around crying about his feelings and that sort of thing. Sometimes, though, he can't help it. And the more he talks about his parents, the more I'm starting to realize that all the anger and resentment he's got is really covering up a lot of untapped pain. Whether or not he likes to admit it isn't the point. The point is that he really feels hurt by his parents, and I think _that night _finally made things so clear that he can't really ignore it anymore. I say _that night _because I really do think it was a real eye-opening moment of his life. Or at least something that _forced _him to admit the obvious. But he _won't a_dmit it. Or at least not outright. He says nothing's wrong, and I don't know how to force him into opening up about it. So that's why I called in help.

And that help just happens to be Rose Weasley.

Rose and I have started hanging out quite a bit lately- much to James's distaste. I don't know what he thinks is going to happen or why he has to act like he can't stand it. Truthfully, he doesn't even dislike Rose, not anymore at least. They get along fairly okay, though they never, ever waste an opportunity to fight with each other. They act like six year olds together, I swear. It's like the second they see each other, any and all maturity that they might possess separately flies out the window. They just _love _torturing each other, I guess. I don't know. I just ignore them.

Still, though. Even if Rose acts like she hates James, she's the best person I know of to go to for advice on his inner-mentalities. And apparently I was right in assuming that she had an insider's point of view.

"James's parents are nuts."

She says it outright just like that as she continues to butter her toast. I guess my surprise must be evident on my face because she sets the knife down and licks some stray butter from the side of her finger.

"I mean, I love them," she says, shrugging. "They're my godparents. But really. They're nuts."

I've barely even told her anything. All I did was tell her that James is trying to pretend like not speaking to his parents doesn't bother him. Rose, though, seems to know exactly what's going on before I even say it. She doesn't seem surprised or shocked or anything. She just carries on preparing her breakfast plate.

"He won't even respond to their letters or anything," I tell her seriously. "And his dad dropped by a couple of nights ago, and James made up a fake training session he had to attend…"

"Well, what happened exactly?" Rose finishes preparing her toast and then takes a tiny little bite of it. "Why did he just stop speaking to them?"

So I tell her. I tell her all about _that night. _I tell her everything his mum said and everything his dad _didn't _say, and she just chews on her toast and sips her juice and says nothing while I talk. When I'm finished, she pushes some of her hair over her shoulder and frowns.

"His parents…" She stops in a way that makes me think she's contemplating her words carefully. "His parents don't really like each other."

"No kidding." I don't know why she's pointing out the obvious- I pretty much picked up on that when his mother practically came right out and said her whole life was a disaster because she got married and had children so young.

"Well, I don't think that's fair maybe," Rose backtracks. "They _like _each other, I suppose, but they just have a lot of issues."

"A lot of issues like they hate themselves for getting married and hate their children for being born?" I don't even realize how angry I am until it comes out like that. I don't even _know _them well enough to be this angry, but I guess I harbor my own resentment after having watched how unhappy James is this past month or so. I guess it's one of those unconscious protective reactions that kick in when the people you love are upset or hurting.

"They don't _hate _their kids," Rose says without hesitation. "They probably have ignored a lot of things they shouldn't have… but they don't _hate _them."

"Well, perhaps they should learn how to communicate with their children without completely alienating them and making them feel as if they're the reason for all the problems in the world!" Wow. I guess I _am _angry. I can't stop myself from saying something I've wanted to say to James for awhile now. "His mum's a _bitch."_

"She's not a bitch," Rose seems halfway offended by the statement, and I wonder vaguely if she falls into the same category as James, as far as people who you can't say things like that around. Whatever, I don't care. "She was really there for me a lot of times when I couldn't go to my parents."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I imagine Rose is a master eye-roller who takes offense to other people doing the same thing. Still, though, I don't sugarcoat it. "Well, that must be nice for you because she certainly hasn't been there for _James."_

Rose doesn't say anything at first. She sips her juice for a few seconds and then finally she sighs a little bit. "I love her. But I think she might be one of those women who's better at being an aunt than a mother." She tugs at a strand of her hair. "She's the _cool _aunt, but I don't know if that really translates over to her own kids," she finally admits.

It doesn't. I can assure her of that. James has nothing but complete and total resentment for the fact that his mother hoards so much of her _own _resentment. And no matter how you look at it, that much resentment is a dangerous thing. It just bothers me so much because James doesn't deserve to feel like that. None of it's his fault, and he deserves something much better from the people who are supposed to love him unconditionally no matter what.

"She thinks I'm a gold digger."

This, too, comes out of nowhere, but it seems as if I'm having loads of trouble keeping my mouth under control. Everything that pops into my head seems to come flying out of my mouth at exactly the same time. I can't even help it. I don't think I even care.

Rose, though, actually laughs at the latest declaration. "Well, can you blame her?" she asks, and I stare at her incredulously. When she stops snickering, she answers her own question. "She probably can't imagine a single other reason why anyone in their right _mind _would marry James!"

I know I should probably take offense to her statement, but I can't help laughing. She says it so bluntly and seriously that her complete hatred of James is almost amusing.

"Look," Rose says when she finally stops laughing. "James has too much to live up to and has never had any real guidance on how to live up to it."

It's a simple statement that sounds actually profound. I'm not too surprised, of course, because Rose is extremely intelligent, and even through her natural sarcasm and bitchiness, most of what she says is ridiculously smart and articulate. It's weird, and it definitely takes some getting used to.

"Live up to what, though?" I ask, still a bit confused. "He doesn't want to be anything _like _his father."

Rose, though, shakes her head. "He _can't b_e his father, so, of course, he doesn't _want _to be." I just stare at her. Now she's completely lost me. "James and his dad are nearly exact opposites. They don't understand each other, so they have both always pretended not to care."

I don't know what she's talking about. All I know is that it sounds like she's trying to make excuses for the same people she called "nuts" just minutes earlier. Still, though, she sounds weirdly knowledgeable about the subject. I just don't get it, I guess, because James has never made any indication whatsoever that he _wants _to live up to his dad. In fact, the few times he's ever even talked about _that _have been when he's whining about how unfair it is to be looked at as a Potter. He's played the poor little rich boy card plenty of times, but it's never been in a way that says he wants to follow in his father's footsteps or anything.

"I know you probably don't understand." Rose seems to read my mind. "I think it's one of those things you have to live to really get."

"What are you talking about? Live what? Live the life of a kid who has everything in the world handed to him but has to deal with the fact that his parents wish he'd never been born?"

"James didn't have everything _handed _to him," Rose argues. "None of us did. I know everyone thinks that, but it's not true."

I realize that Rose might be a bit delusional about this particular subject, seeing as how she, too, is a spoilt rich kid who has probably never _not _got something she's wanted in her entire life. I don't think it's easy for those kids to see the truth because James won't admit to it, either. Even though it's _clearly _true.

Rose goes right on, though, without even letting me interject a single word. "It's not like we grew up in palaces with servants. We had pretty normal lives." She pauses for maybe a second before adding, "Before Hogwarts anyway."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I feel like we're way off from the subject now, but I kind of want to know what she's on about.

Rose has stopped eating her breakfast by now, and she's merely swirling her juice around in her glass. She seems to be thinking the next part over in her head. "We didn't know about our parents until we started school." I just stare at her, wondering, of course, what the hell she's talking about. "I mean, we knew a little bit, but we weren't raised in the public really. James, Al, and Lily grew up in the country… Hugo and I grew up in a Muggle neighborhood… The only other people we really ever knew were our family, and they never talked about it. We had no idea that our parents were famous. Or that _we _would be famous when we went to school."

I think back to when I first met James and how there was no indication whatsoever that he didn't know exactly who and what his father was. He was always cocky and entitled, even when he was eleven years old. I wonder if Rose has a skewed view on the situation since she was probably exactly the same way. I almost say something, but I'm fairly certain that Rose would take offense to it and either go off on me or stop offering advice.

"It changed a lot of things," she goes on. "And I think that's where a lot of James's issues come from."

"His issues come from the fact that he has never been forced to take responsibility for anything in his entire life because no one important even notices what he does or doesn't do." I'm sorry, but I don't think we should sit here and make excuses for him, even though I realize a lot of what he is today comes from the environment in which he was raised. I love him, but I won't try and rationalize or excuse his behavior.

Rose just shrugs, though, and leans back in her chair.

"If you _heard _the things his mother said to him…" I am _still _shocked by it. "His parents don't _care _what he does, they only care that he supposedly ruined everything they ever wanted. Like he had some choice in the matter!"

"His parents don't like each other," Rose repeats, and this time she says it a bit more forcefully. "They haven't for a long time. They should have split up ages ago when they first had the chance! But that doesn't mean that they don't care about their kids."

"Rose-"

She cuts me off, though. "It's easy to blame them," she says, and I'm surprised to hear that her voice wavers a little bit. "I know that because I blamed my parents for _everything _for a really long time. I always thought they were too busy and too self-absorbed, and I always resented the fact that people expected me to be just like them." She waits a few seconds before continuing, and she seems to be dazing out a bit. "I'm _not _like them. I couldn't do half the things they did… I don't have some world-changing destiny."

I don't know what to say. I can't really relate because I don't have a pair of famous parents who helped save the world. I haven't seen my dad since I was probably two years old, and my mum is just a terribly average woman who's made her way through life by marrying up the ladder every few years. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. But she hasn't exactly left me a huge legacy to live up to. To my mother, the greatest thing I'll ever accomplish is somehow managing to marry a Potter- not working my arse off in school to get good results and then working myself to death at a bank to try and make my own living and eventually get into a good enough position to make myself happy. So I can't really relate to the people who have parents in the history books and what it must be like for them trying to do something comparable.

Rose goes back to twisting her hair and looks down at her lap. She's upset, I can tell that. I'm sure talking about her parents makes her think of her dad, and I didn't want to get her depressed or anything. In fact, I didn't even mean for the conversation to go down this road.

"But my parents always loved me," she says out of nowhere, and it actually surprises me a bit. "And it was wrong and immature of me to blame everything on them because they always did things that they thought were right. I was just selfish and spoilt." She looks up and blinks away the slight wetness that's come into her eyes. "That's why I get so angry with Lily when she pulls all her stupid shit. Because she and Hugo have had plenty of time to watch the rest of us and see how stupid we were. But she's worse than any of us, and it drives me insane!"

"James told me what happened at Al's." I say it carefully because I'm not sure how forward Rose wants to be about it. I'm sure she was furious, and I can't say I really blame her. Still, though, I guess I want to know her opinion on it. James got really upset when he found out, but it was more worried than angry. Lily was already gone back to school, though, so he didn't have a chance to grab her and force some sense into her. I don't know Lily too well, but I suspect that half the reason James has been so upset with her lately is because he sees so much of himself in her and secretly blames himself for somehow not being a better role model or something.

Apparently Rose feels the same way.

"She just makes me so angry!" Rose blurts out, and her face heats up to the same angry shade of blush that James's does. Wow, that's weird… "She should have learned from our mistakes, but instead, she just creates even more problems of her own! She's just a _bitch."_

I know the whole story of what Lily apparently did to Rose's brother, so I'm not surprised that she is so abrasive toward her. She's obviously got a very strong protective streak over her little brothers, which isn't shocking considering that's a pretty normal reaction for the eldest sibling. James, however, doesn't really seem to have that same over-protectiveness in regards to his own younger siblings. Again, I think this has to do with the fact that even though Rose apparently thinks both of their families are exactly the same, they're actually not. Rose and her brother seem more mature and more appreciative than the Potters do, and that can only mean that they were raised differently and that their parents did a better job of instilling actual values in them. And obviously, they don't question their parents' love for them. Rose may have in the past, but she's apparently seen through that and grown up. I don't think James, or Al and Lily for that matter, have ever had that same epiphany. Perhaps that's why they have quite a bit of animosity among themselves _and _toward their parents.

"But James and Lily and even _Al…" _Rose frowns for a second. "It's like they don't learn from anything. They create a lot of their own problems, and then they blame it on their parents. I don't agree with that."

"But don't you think a lot of it _is _their parents' fault?"

"I think there comes a point where you have to grow up and start taking responsibility for yourself and for your choices." She sounds ridiculously coherent now, and I watch silently as she goes on with her explanation. "Yes, their parents have done a lot of things that weren't right. They've fucked up plenty. _My _parents fucked up plenty. Nobody's perfect. But we're not little kids anymore, it's up to _us _how we react to situations and circumstances. And I don't think James or either of the other ones realize that. I think it's just easier to blame other people."

"Shouldn't their parents take responsibility of their own, though?"

She nods. "Yes. They should. But if they don't, that shouldn't affect the things their kids do one way or the other because all of their kids are adults now. And they have the ability to make their own decisions and their own choices and to realize that just because they can't control the circumstances doesn't mean they can't control how they react to them."

I stare at her wordlessly, trying to process everything she said. "You make that sound really easy."

Rose just shrugs, and the slightest hint of a smirk crosses her lips. "I've had loads of therapy," she says dismissively.

She's joking, but I can't help wondering. "Did you ever think about doing that?"

She looks at me questioningly. "Huh?"

"You're over halfway done with the Healer's Academy. Did you ever think about going into psychological?"

Her face instantly stiffens, and she hastily pushes some hair out of the way. "I'm not going back," she says dully.

"Why not?" I know she hasn't been back since her dad's death, but I don't really know the reasoning behind it.

"Because that's not important right now. I have to make sure my family's okay."

"I think your family's going to be just fine," I tell her honestly. "Your mum seems amazingly strong."

"She is."

"And your brothers are both smart and well-rounded." She nods, and I get the sense of pride that comes off of it. "I think they're going to be okay."

Rose doesn't give in, though. "And besides, the academy is too far away from Scorpius."

"It's just another year," I tell her. "And then after that, you can go wherever you want."

"A year is a long time." To be as intelligent as she is about controlling your own happiness, she's certainly very stubborn.

I think back to something I heard her aunt say _that night _and bring it up. "You don't want to end up resentful."

"Resentful of whom?" she asks briskly. "Of Scorpius? I love him."

"The whole reason James's mum is so bitter is because she never got to have the career she wanted. You don't want to end up like that."

"I won't," she says firmly. "If I don't finish the academy, that's _my _choice. It's nothing to do with anything else."

"But wouldn't you like to help people?"

"Of course I would!" she says, and she rolls her eyes. "But there're plenty of other ways to help people."

I just shake my head, though. "I just think you'd be really good at it," I tell her honestly. "You read people really well."

"I told you, I've had loads of therapy."

"And didn't it help you?"

She nods.

"Then why don't you want to give other people the same help you got?"

She doesn't say anything. She looks half angry with me, but she doesn't express it. I imagine that she's probably more angry with herself for letting herself get into a situation where other people could talk logically to her. I have a feeling she's been avoiding these type of conversations at all costs. Still, it's the truth. She would make an _amazing _psychological healer.

In fact, I'm fairly certain that's her own destiny.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope everyone's having a great weekend!


	53. Rose, May 3rd

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 53

**ROSE**

**May 3****rd**

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Scorpius has been playing professional Quidditch for two full years now, and this is the first actual team party I've ever attended.

I've been to a couple of the after-match gatherings at someone's house, but as far as actual official parties, this is the first. And I have to admit, it's exactly as I imagined. For starters, it's _crawling _with skanks. They are _everywhere. _Most of them are dressed in less clothing than I'm sure is legal, and the rest are already so drunk that it doesn't even matter if they're covered a bit more modestly. They may as well be naked the way they're climbing all over anything with a dick.

And I kind of want to punch all of them.

Scorpius does a good job of dodging them, despite the fact that he's got a good number of them tagging along at any given moment. I think he's annoyed by them but more scared of _my _reaction, so he does his best to just ignore them altogether. This party looks exactly like all the photos in the newspaper, and it reminds me why I was so depressed during the time that Scorpius and I weren't together. It also does a bit to calm any and all doubts I may have secretly been harboring. The pictures and stories seemed so convincing when I read them, but now I see how easy it would be to spin the ever-growing number of whores hell bent on having it off with him into a sultry, scandalous love affair.

But the good news, of course, is that this team party is a celebration of the fact that the won their final match and have officially completed their season undefeated. They're the only team in the league to do so, and they're practically a given for the post-season championship. It's awesome really, and I really couldn't be any prouder. The match was amazing, and they clenched the win within an hour. The stadium was sold out, and I've never seen so much support for the team or for Scorpius.

Scorpius is thrilled obviously, and when he's not spending his time dodging skanks, he's living up the moment with his teammates. They are much more accepting of him now than they were a year ago when he was just the new kid with the shy, awkward personality and the ominous surname. I'm happy for him because I think a lot of these guys are actually real friends of his, and I feel like they're probably sincere in their appreciation for him. He's never really had friends, so I'm really glad he's finally found some people who like him for who he is and don't judge him. He deserves to have people in his life who know the real him and don't immediately hear the name Malfoy and think evil, evil, evil. He's finally got a chance to move _beyond _the name and prove that everything isn't simply about stupid blood wars that happened a million years ago. I can sympathize because I want to prove the same thing.

Of course, I _do _wish he was doing a little less dodging and living it up and was spending a little more time with me. Parties are terribly boring when you're alone, and seeing as how I don't really know anyone else, I mostly just stand in the corner and watch the people around me. I really need to talk to Scorpius, though. I've barely seen him the past two days, as he's been at training until late at night and up and gone way before I even wake up. Still, I don't want to be a nag and spoil his fun when this is obviously a really important night for him.

So I do nothing.

I just stand there in my little corner with my drink and watch everyone else have a great time. It's quite boring, and I'm honestly surprised that I don't just fall asleep right there on my feet. I'm so bored that I'm not even annoyed when Maxwell Kramer approaches me for a chat. Maxwell plays Chaser for the Tornadoes, and I've met him a few times before. He seems like one of the more normal players, probably because he's a bit older (in his early 30s) and more mature.

"You look bored," he observes, handing me a fresh drink, which I take gratefully.

I just shrug in response to his question. "I'm just tired," I lie.

"Well, you should make your boyfriend take you home."

"He's having fun." I shrug and take a sip of the drink. It's stronger than the last one, but not so strong that I don't drink it.

Maxwell just nods and sips his own drink before finally saying, "I'm really sorry about your father. I know it must be really difficult."

It comes out of nowhere, but I'm getting better at not bursting into tears at every mention of Dad. Besides, I think it's very nice of him to offer condolences, especially considering the fact that he doesn't even know me that well.

"Thank you," I say, nodding and not going any further.

"Malfoy was really upset for you," he goes on. "I think he really cares about you."

I don't know why he's telling me this, but who am I to try and understand the inner-workings of a thirty-two year old man's mind? It's nice, though, what he's saying. I know how much Scorpius really cares, and it's nice when other people pick up on it.

Speaking of, though, Scorpius shows up right at that exact moment. Apparently the best way to get your boyfriend to notice you is to be chatted up by another bloke because Scorpius comes up, slings an arm around my waist, and pulls me closer for a kiss. He's half-drunk anyway, that much is obvious, but it's still nice.

"I couldn't find you!" he says when he pulls back just a bit. Then he leans in again to whisper, "I missed you."

"Maxwell was keeping me company," I say, motioning across at his teammate who is watching with something close to amusement. Scorpius nods at him, and they do that stupid male slap/hand shake thing. And despite the fact that Scorpius is much younger, much smaller, and generally much more intimidated than Maxwell, his eyes clearly say to back off. It's funny, of course, since Maxwell wasn't flirting with me or anything close, but I can't help feeling happy about it.

"Your lady is tired," Maxwell says, emphasizing the word _lady._

Scorpius looks at me quickly and then says, "Well, let's go home."

But I shake my head. "No, you go have fun. I'm fine." I smile widely to show that I'm just perfectly okay.

Scorpius, though, doesn't seem interested in my fake enthusiasm. "Let's go have fun by ourselves," he says it lowly and pointedly, and I know right away that he's apparently more than just a bit tipsy. He starts acting that way when he's drunk- really forward and flirtatious. I kind of like it.

Okay, so I _really _like it. And that's why it doesn't take much convincing on his part to get me to Apparate back to his cottage and leave the loud, crowded party behind. The cottage, of course, is much quieter and much more private. It's also eerily neat and orderly. This is, of course, due mostly to the fact that Scorpius has spent _very _little time here the past couple of months. He's been staying with me, and I'm more thankful for that than I'll probably ever be able to tell him. I love having him right there all the time. Which makes my current decision even tougher.

Scorpius heads to the bathroom straight away- another tell-tale sign that he's been drinking probably too much. I glance around the sitting room and marvel once again about how it's been virtually untouched for two months now. He's done so much for me. I wonder if he knows just how much it all means, but I don't see how he could. There's nothing I could ever say that would effectively tell him exactly what he means and what everything he does for me means. I love him.

When he comes out, he goes straight back into his flirtatious routine and obviously thinks throwing in a dash of seduction will work wonders. It doesn't hurt, of course, and I don't complain when he tries to be smooth and wrap his arms around my waist while burying his face into my neck. I don't even call him out as he casually backs us up until I'm trapped against the wall. I love the way it feels being so close to him like this. And I love the way he smells and the way his lips feel and pretty much everything about him. He's the perfect height for me, just enough to be a couple of inches taller but not enough to be awkward. And sometimes when I look at him, I can't quite believe how _beautiful _he is. So perfect.

We snog awhile there against the wall, and it's all fantastic. It's one of those perfect quiet kind of moments that you just don't want to end. Finally, he pulls back some and smiles at me. "I'm really glad you're here."

I can't help it, of course, and I smile back stupidly. He's just too sweet to garner any other sort of reaction. "You played really well." And he did. He's actually amazing, and the papers are now calling him the best Seeker in the league and talking about how England would have a much better shot at the World Cup if he was on the team. Not bad for a second year player…

"I talked to the manager for a few minutes in the changing room." His eyes are glazed over with that half-intoxicated sort of look. "I think I'm getting more money next season."

"Really?"

I hadn't really thought of that, but I suppose it makes sense. He makes probably about a sixth of what James likely makes, and that certainly isn't fair, since he's clearly on a more winning team. And since he's clearly a much better athlete than James… James is rather overrated if you ask me (not that anyone would), but he is paid more for his name and image than he is for actual talent. I mean, he isn't terrible, but he isn't the best by a long shot. Still, though, he's the highest paid player in the league according to the latest statistics published in _Quidditch Weekly. _(I started reading it while I was obsessing over Scorpius during our breakup- so sue me. Or don't because my mum's kind of important, and you wouldn't win anyway).

Scorpius nods, and he actually looks rather excited, which is strange because he's never even given a second thought to money. I'm sure that's due in large part to the fact that his family is oozing with old ancient wealth, so he's lived the life of the privileged in a far more real environment than I ever have, despite what people may think. He doesn't think about money because it's honestly never been an issue for him. But now it seems like he's happy about possibly getting a higher salary.

"Yeah," he says, and he smiles almost shyly now. "So I was thinking… Maybe, if you wanted, I mean…" he's so adorable when he stutters. "We could start looking for a place together. I mean to buy… If you want. I mean, if you wanted to, you know, move closer to London or something."

I just stare at him.

I'm so in love with every bit of him. And everything he does and everything he says just reiterates the fact he's maybe the most perfect person on the planet.

"I'm going back to school."

I just say it. I don't know why I was even nervous about it in the first place. Scorpius has been trying to convince me to go back for awhile now, so it's not like he's going to be upset. I think I was more nervous about saying it out loud and making it real. Because once it's been said, it's more difficult to just back out.

Scorpius stares at me for a second, almost as if he's checking to see if I'm joking. When he's convinced that I am not, in fact, kidding, he smiles widely and sincerely. "Really?"

I nod. "Yeah… I think I want to focus on psychological healing…" Now _this, _I _am _nervous about. I've never given any hint that I might want to do that, and I'm not sure how other people will react to it. Scorpius, for what it's worth, doesn't look at me like I'm crazy (wouldn't that be ironic?) Instead, he just nods slowly.

"When did you decide that?"

So I tell him about the conversation I had with Kate and how she suggested it. I'd never considered it before, but since she suggested it, I can't get it out of my head. I keep thinking of reasons why it would actually be perfect and why it's something that I might actually enjoy and be good at. After all, I _do _have quite a bit of experience in that field- at least on the receiving end.

"And you think this is really what you want to do?"

I nod. "Do you think I'd be good at it?"

"You'll be brilliant," he tells me and scoops me into a tight hug. "I'm really glad you're giving it another shot," he tells me, dipping his face into my hair. "I think it's the right thing."

"I talked to the head professor. She said if I can pass the exams, I can stay on track with my class."

"You'll do great," he says sincerely and pulls back. I'm glad he feels so confident because all I feel is my stomach turning in knots. I've been out of class for two months now- and mentally out for another one before that. I've got _tons _to catch up on. "If you need anything, I'll help you. Of course, I don't think I'd _be _much help, but I can try…"

I laugh and shake my head. "I'll just start locking myself in the library when I go back."

"I thought maybe you'd need a human experiment."

I pretend to think about it and then say, "Yeah, but I'm not fully trained yet, and if I mess up, you've got parts I wouldn't accidentally want to hex off."

"Well, I'd appreciate that, too," he tells me seriously.

We laugh about it, and he does a few more minutes of the pulling me with kissing and neck nuzzling before I turn a little more serious. He seems to notice because he drops his hands down and takes mine.

"Everything's going to be okay," he says, and it's like he can read my mind. "This is the right thing."

"I'm just scared I won't be able to catch up."

'Look," he says seriously. "You're the smartest person I've ever known in my entire life. You're brilliant. "

"But I missed so much…"

"You'll catch it up," he assures me. "And obviously your professor thinks the same thing, or she wouldn't have even bothered telling you to try."

"I think you have more confidence in my ability than I do."

Scorpius sighs a little and then tugs me over to an armchair. He falls into it gracelessly and tugs me down right after. "I _know _you can do it because I know everything about you." I glance at him, and he pushes some hair away from my face. "I know you can do anything."

"If I mess up, I don't have a backup."

"You don't _need _a backup. You're going to be great."

I frown, and the twisty feeling in my stomach comes back. I turn slightly and press my face into his shoulder. He lets me sit there for a second before gingerly rubbing my lower back.

"Stop making excuses not to try," he tells me quietly. "Things are okay."

"But Landon," I say quickly without even lifting my face. "I'm worried about him."

"Landon is fine," he tells me. "That kid is just like you, he can handle anything."

I don't say anything after that, but the knot in my belly seems to tighten. It hurts, and I'm scared. Scorpius speaks up a second later, though, and reminds me why he's perfect.

"And I'll look after your mum."

It's just a simple sentence, but it may as well be the greatest romance novel ever written. An unbearable sense of affection seems to build up inside of me, and I lift my head to look him straight in the face. He really _does _know everything about me.

"I love you."

It's the most honest, sincere thing I think I've ever said. I've said it and meant it a million times before, but right now, I don't think there's anything truer in my whole life.

Scorpius looks back at me, and he doesn't say anything for several moments. Then he just kisses me, gently and softly. It's one of those unbearably sweet kisses that make my whole body feel weak and tingly. He has a habit of rendering me that way quite frequently, but right now, I feel the same way I felt when he showed up in my bedroom the morning I found out my dad was dead. Like nothing else in the world matters except this.

"I'm going to miss you most," I say quietly when we pull away. I lay my head back on his shoulder, and he lightly tugs on the end of one of my curls.

"I'm always going to be here."

And I know it without him saying it. Still, though, hearing the words make me feel more at ease than any of the hundreds of self-assuring reasons I've tried to convince myself of over the past couple of days. But I know he's telling the truth.

"It's just another year," I say, as much for my own benefit as for his. It's what I keep telling myself- one more year. Just a year. It's not that bad. I'll be okay.

"And then when you're done," he finishes, "we can find a house and start working on everything else."

I can't see his face, and he doesn't come right out and say it. But it's a promise of the future and a promise of our forever. It means everything. _He _means everything.

I don't lift my head. I just let it lay there, and I think about what he's said and what it means. My whole future is with him. It doesn't matter what job I've got or where I live or any of that. It only matters that he's there and that I can't even bear thinking otherwise. I want him forever, and I want him to _be _my forever. And I know that's exactly how it'll happen. I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life.

And that's when I know everything is going to be alright. I can go to school. I can finish up my training, and I can find a good job doing something that can actually help people. I don't have to be a world class hero and follow in my parents' footsteps. I can be myself, and I can make my own way. And my family's going to be alright. And Scorpius is going to be here waiting for me.

So now I haven't got anymore excuses.

It's time for me to move on and come back to reality.

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A/N: So…. Rose is finding the future… Now the rest of them just need to catch up! Thanks for reading, please review!


	54. Lily, May 15th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 54

**LILY**

**May 15****th**

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So when my parents found out about my supposed "overdose," they basically flipped a lid.

They said my aunt told them about it, which I assume means Rose went spilling all the details to her mum. It's stupid, of course, since she was the one who said my parents didn't need to know about my "fake bullshit problems." Surely she knew that her mother would tell my parents. She probably just wanted to get me in trouble but didn't want to act like she cared. She's such a bitch. I wish Al had just let me lay there and die- that way I wouldn't be indebted to Rose fucking Weasley for saving my life.

Anyway, though, I was well gone by the time they found out, but that didn't stop Mum making an appearance in the Gryffindor Common Room and dragging me into Neville's office to lay into me. She was furious- worse than I've ever seen her in all my life. Usually when she gets angry, she just shouts a bit and then walks away. That definitely wasn't the case. She shouted, of course, for probably a good twenty minutes and barely gave me two to explain. Then she cried. A lot. She gave up shouting, fell into the desk chair, put her face into her hands, and started crying.

I just sat there and said nothing because she certainly didn't seem up for believing me. I tried to interject on several occasions that it was just an accident and that it was blown out of proportion, but she didn't seem to want to hear it. She just shook her head and kept asking, _"Why?" _Why was I in such need of attention that I would do something like try and kill myself? What made me so unhappy? How did I get so lost?

Kill myself.

Please. Anyone who actually knows me should know that that's something I would never do. I like myself too much. Or at least I did. I'm hoping that once I get out of Hogwarts and can start over, I'll start liking myself again. I keep telling myself that- that it'll be better once I'm out of here. That things can be fresh, and I won't have to deal with this bullshit anymore.

It'd be better if I believed it.

But I didn't say anything. I knew there was no point. Mum didn't believe me, and I could tell her the truth fifty more times and she _still _wouldn't believe it. So I just sat there and watched her cry, and I couldn't even make myself feel bad for her. I mean, sure, she's my mother, and I guess I don't like seeing her upset. But I'm her daughter, and she's watched me be miserable for two months now and hasn't done anything about it.

The whole reason I took the ruddy pills in the first place was so that I could escape the reality of my home-life for a few hours. Easter was awful. Most of it, of course, was due directly to my parents and their complete obliviousness to my presence. They hate each other. Or else they love each other but can't stand each other. I don't know which is worse. The entire time I was home, they just said nothing to each other. I'd rather them fight, but they seem past the point of arguing. It's like they've both just resigned themselves to coexisting in nothing now.

It's _depressing._

So when Mum sat down and just started crying, I couldn't force myself to do or say anything. She's miserable. If she wants to blame that on me or my brothers, I guess that's her prerogative. But it doesn't mean I have to feel bad about it. She made her own decisions, and if she's miserable with her life, it's not my fault. I don't have to feel guilty about it, and I won't.

Dad, of course, didn't even bother showing up to grill me about my apparent "attempted suicide." I'm glad to know he cares so bloody much. Or maybe he's just not as dramatic as Mum. He wrote me a letter and told me off for being stupid, but maybe he just didn't feel like it was worth it to travel all the way to Scotland to scream at me in the Head of House's office. Either that, or maybe he just didn't want to be around Mum for that long. Seriously, I don't care what the fuck they end up doing, but they need to just get it over with already. Maybe when I was thirteen and naïve, I gave a shit about whether they stayed together or got divorced, but now I don't. I'm not going to pretend otherwise, either.

When Mum was done crying, she finally looked up and told me that I was going to "get help." I didn't know what she meant by that. Help like from a shrink who would charge three-hundred galleons an hour to tell me that I was suffering from a severe case of narcissism? Hardly. No, Mum had the brilliant idea that I was actually going to check into a treatment facility and be cured of my so-called unhealthy addictions.

Yeah, right.

I informed her, of course, that I was eighteen years old, and that she wasn't forcing me anywhere. I mean, I don't even know if she was serious with that shit, but she's seriously d_eluded _if she thinks I'm going to check into some mental ward for _drug rehabilitation! _I don't do anything that everyone else my age does (or at least the normal, non-lame ones), so she's absolutely batshit crazy if she thinks she's going to force me into getting some fucking treatment for it.

She left after that, after telling me that I was ruining my life, and that I was going to regret this. She told me that she wouldn't offer help again, and that if I wanted to be such a grown up that I would have to take care of myself when I finally faced the fact that I had a problem. And then she told me that I should be ashamed of myself for causing so many people problems and heartache when people loved me and were just trying to do what's best for me.

So fuck her.

Fuck her. Fuck Dad. Fuck James and Al and Rose and all the other twats out there who think they know _so _much about me and think I'm actually going to waste my time trying to live up to any of their stupid, ridiculous standards. They can all go fuck themselves for all I care. I'm done with the whole lot of them. When I'm finished with school, I'm moving away and forgetting about all of them. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life trying to fit into some perfectly painted box just because my surname happens to be Potter. I'm well capable of controlling things, and once I get my fresh start, I won't have to worry about any of their nonsense ever again.

The only thing I'm worrying about _now _are my NEWTs. If I'm actually going to be successful in breaking away from the whole Potter image thing, then I need to make sure that I've got the credentials. My Aunt Fleur's got a sister in Paris who owns a whole line of fashion boutiques, and I'm fairly certain that I could convince her to let me come intern there for awhile. If I can get in some experience and also have enough NEWTs, then maybe I'll be able to open my own boutique up someday. It sounds a hell of a lot more interesting than working behind a desk at the Ministry. Actually, that doesn't sound interesting at all. Nor do any of the other popular career choices that the professors keep trying to shove down our throats at every given opportunity.

Unfortunately, none of my friends seem too fussed about the tests, but that's alright because at least I've got a private tutor. Eric is _killing _me, but it's paying off because I'm actually starting to understand some of the stuff I probably should have learned ages ago. He's stopped being so freaking afraid of me and has actually started cracking down. It's working. I'm sure my professors are shocked beyond belief, but maybe they should just have more confidence in me. Maybe a lot of people should have more confidence in me.

Anyway, it doesn't matter. At this point, I have only one real goal aside from getting my NEWTs. And that is getting Hugo to forgive me. He's given absolutely no indication whatsoever that he has any interest at all in ever speaking cordially to me again. I don't really know why it's so much more difficult for me to write him off completely than it is the rest of my family, but I assume it has something to do with the fact that I actually feel at fault for some of Hugo's misery. I don't think his is entirely self-made like my parents' or entirely overdramatized like my brothers'. His is actually partly my fault, so I feel like I owe him something. Clearly an apology is not what he wants, though, as I've tried and failed on several occasions to elicit some sort of reaction by telling him that I'm sorry. He doesn't want to hear it, so fine. I'll stop wasting my breath.

The least I can do is fix his love life.

Now I don't know explicitly or anything, but I'd be willing to bet a fair price that Hugo and Amanda either did it or came close to doing it somewhere over Easter hols. They've got that ridiculous post-hook up awkward thing going on, and it's very obvious. They're having trouble having normal conversations. They're being way, _way _too polite with each other. And they both seem incapable of laughing and cutting up with each other. Not to mention, of course, they're both ridiculously awkward in the other's vicinity now, which is just stupid, seeing as how they've known each other since they were born.

About a million years ago, I made them get married. Not legally, of course, since for one, I don't have the power to _force _anyone to do anything, and for two, they were six. Still, though, it was funny, and I planned a whole little miniature wedding for them. I think it was really _me _who wanted the wedding, but I didn't know any boys who weren't immediately or nearly immediately related to me. So I did the next best thing and forced my best friend to marry my cousin.

The funny thing, of course, is that Amanda and Hugo really couldn't stand each other back then. Well, maybe Amanda didn't care one way or the other about Hugo, but he used to complain nonstop about her all the time. I think the only reason he agreed to "marry" Amanda back then was because I got Rose on board, and she threatened to beat him up if he didn't go along. See, Rose used to have a legitimate purpose in life- now she's just a bitch with a superiority complex. But whatever.

Anyway, to make a long story short, I was responsible for their first kiss.

I don't think either of them particularly _wanted _to kiss the other one, but they didn't have much choice. After all, after you say "I do," you've got no choice whatsoever but to kiss the bride. So they did. And apparently they must have liked it because fast forward a decade or so, and they're _definitely _doing. Or at least _almost _doing it.

And so, in the spirit of forgiveness, I decide to take another stab at playing matchmaker. I'll admit, of course, that it's much more difficult now that I'm no longer friends with Amanda or on speaking terms with Hugo. I also haven't got Rose to threaten people with physical violence, either, so it's up to me alone to try and work something out. The first step, I'm sure, is making some sort of amends with Amanda.

In all honesty, I don't know where Amanda and I fell off. I'm sure it happened around Fourth Year. She was jealous of my boyfriend, and I probably wasn't too kind to her. The following years only got worse, as I got more and more popular and she got more and more nonconformist. We're nothing alike now, and chances are that we won't ever be anything alike again. It's not something I can say I'm particularly upset by, mostly because I find her to be rather strange and alienating most of the time. I'm sure she's not my biggest fan, either, so I doubt she's too heartbroken by the revelation that we'll probably never share the same interests again. But still, I won't lie and act like she's some sort of horrible person or something- I'm pretty much past that by now. She's _not _some horrible person, she's just not like _me. _

And plus, I kind of owe her. So I guess it won't hurt to fix _her _love life, too.

The easiest way to accomplish this, I suppose, is to simply talk to them. Or at least talk to Amanda- she will at least speak to me, Hugo… not so much. It's weird, though, trying to find a moment to get her on her own, considering the fact that I've spent the last three years pretty much avoiding her. And even though she has shown me a _tiny _bit of sympathy lately, she certainly isn't queuing up to be my new best mate. It's not like I can just ambush her after Potions and suggest a walk 'round the lake or something.

So that's why I have to plan the moment carefully. Amanda's made a habit of skipping breakfast lately in what I can only assume is an attempt to be on her own with Hugo as little as possible. She usually just hangs out on her bed until half nine when classes start. Sometimes she'll do some last minute revising, other times she'll just stare off blankly into space. This morning, I hide out in the dorm's bathroom until the rest of my roommates head down for the morning, and then I sneak back in. Amanda looks up, of course, but she doesn't really do more than spare me a glance before looking back down at her Transfiguration book. She's got her wand out and appears to be trying to turn an old mitten into a kitten. She sort of sucks…

"If you flick out and then in, you've got a better shot." I say this, not knowing, of course, whether she's going to be pleased with my help or be offended. Initially, she says nothing, but a second later, she tries my advice, and a tiny mewing gray kitten appears in place of the sock. "Eric Woodlen's been tutoring me," I say, answering her question before she has a chance to ask it.

She looks at me and then back down at the kitten who is now pawing mindlessly at her duvet. "Thanks," she mumbles.

"I didn't try to kill myself."

I say it bluntly, figuring I may as well go right ahead and address the elephant in the room. I know she's heard, and I know she's curious as to what really happened. I can't say I blame her, of course. Pretty much _everyone _has heard (thanks, I'm sure, to Roxanne- I don't know why anyone tells her _anything), _and I hear all the whispers behind my back as people try to figure out of it's true that I'm severely depressed and suicidal. I don't particularly care what ninety-nine percent of these idiots think, though, so I can't make myself care too much. I think I'm far past the point of actually caring anymore. Still, I'll give Amanda the satisfaction of bringing it up before she tries to act like she doesn't know.

She doesn't say anything at first, just stares at me and then finally purses her lips. "I didn't ask you."

"And you wouldn't," I say, taking it upon myself to sit down on the edge of her bed. "But I know you want to know, so I told you."

Amanda doesn't seem to share the same train of thought- or at least she tries to _appear _that way. "Not everyone in the world is interested in your dramatic life, Lily."

Normally I would retort with something equally as bitchy, but I'm not here to pick a fight. I'm actually trying to do the opposite and call some sort of truce, so I let it go. "I know Rose probably told Hugo I did," I go on, pretending as if I haven't heard her at all. "But Rose hates me."

"Imagine that."

I don't do as good of a job of ignoring that one as I did the last, and I'm sure the reaction shows on my face for the half second that I let it. I cover it up quickly, though, and bend down to adjust my socks. "Rose hates me because she thinks Hugo doesn't have the balls to do it himself."

"Oh, he's not too fond of you by any means…"

"But you said it yourself," I challenge back. "Hugo can't hold a grudge." She did say it, too, just a few weeks ago when I was up here sobbing my eyes out because Hugo said my parents didn't care about me. Amanda was being nice that night- apparently now she's decided to put that wall back up.

"Maybe he's too nice to hold a grudge, but that doesn't mean he isn't angry. He doesn't need his sister standing up for him."

I just shrug, and throw some hair back from my face. "Tell that to Rose then," I say listlessly. "She's the one who insists on acting as though he's five."

"She cares about him," Amanda defends, pretending as though in her last breath she didn't just say that Rose needed to butt the fuck out. "She's trying to be a good sister."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I know I'm supposed to feel sorry for Rose since her dad died and all that, but I can't help it- I just really can't stand her. I think she's a stuck up, arrogant, awful sort of girl, and I'd be happy if she never said another word to me for the rest of my life. Not to mention, of course, that every single _time _I see Scorpius and her together, I just want to claw my eyes out and vomit. They're so sickening. No man should be that fucking perfect, and if one _has _to be, he sure as hell shouldn't be with _Rose. _Rose definitely doesn't deserve him, and I don't know what in the world he sees when he looks at her because all I see is too much hair and a bitchy attitude.

"I don't know why you've got such a problem with Rose anyway," Amanda goes on, and she turns the kitten back into a sock and slides off her bed to put her shoes on. "You're lucky she hasn't hexed you beyond repair yet. _I _wouldn't want to get on her bad side."

"I'm not scared of Rose," I say haughtily. It always pisses me off when people suggest that I should be. Rose may be decently intelligent, but it's not like she's some sort of wand-wielding mastermind who could do serious damage. She's not _that _smart.

Amanda doesn't respond to that, just rolls her eyes and shrugs as she puts on her shoes and smoothes out her skirt. It's nearly twenty past now.

"And anyway," I go on, grabbing my bag from beside my bed, "I don't even care what Rose says. But I care about Hugo."

Amanda starts to open her mouth and say something (unpleasant, I'm sure), but I cut her off before she can.

"And even if he _doesn't _know that," I go on quickly, "that doesn't mean I don't care. I know I did a lot of bad shit to him, and to you, too," I add as an afterthought, "but I don't think you should something _I _did affect your friendship."

"We haven't," she says hotly, and she sort of glares at me. "You don't have that much power, Lily."

And there it is!

I'm good at this sort of thing- at tricking people into admitting things without getting them to come right out and say it. Amanda has no idea that she's just confirmed all of my suspicions. I don't let on, either. I just play stupid.

"Well, it doesn't seem like the two of you are on the best of terms right now," I say, waiting as she gets her own bag and then following her out of the dormitory and down the stairs. "It seems like you're barely even _speaking."_

Amanda scowls and pushes open the portrait hole to step out into the corridor. She starts walking quickly, but I keep pace easily.

"It's none of your business, Lily," she snaps hatefully, trying very hard to pretend as if she isn't as bothered as she actually is.

"Well, god," I say, letting out a fake sigh, "looking at the two of you, you'd think you had sex or something!"

She can't hide it then, and her face goes immediately to stone. She looks half-panicked, and I stop dead in my tracks. I knew it!

"You didn't!" I cry loudly, completely scandalized.

She stops, too, and turns around to glare at me. _"Shhh!" _she hisses hastily. She looks around nervously, and once she's satisfied that we don't have any visitors, she lowers her voice and says, "We didn't have _sex."_

"But you almost did," I supply, picking up the pace as she starts trying to escape me again. She says nothing, just keeps walking quickly with an awful grimace on her face. I pretend not to notice. "You don't have to tell me," I say, hurrying down the stairs of the castle with her. "It's just, well, I know about that kind of thing."

"Yeah, because you're a whore."

I almost can't believe she said that, but then I realize that I believe it rather easily. I roll my eyes and decide to be the bigger person. "Having sex doesn't make you a whore," I correct her. "Being c_areless _about it does." I almost mention Hugo's name here and his almost-pregnancy, but then I think better of it. I doubt that'd help my case too much.

Amanda still says nothing. She glances at her watch, and I catch sight of it, too. We're late. Oh, well.

"Look," I say, just getting to the point. "I don't know what happened with you guys, but I _do _know Hugo likes you. He's liked you forever." I pause for a second when she doesn't reply and then add, "Even if it _did _take him forever to notice."

Amanda stops then, and I very nearly run smack into her. "Just leave it alone, Lily," she says sharply. "It hasn't got anything to do with you."

"Fine," I tell her, shrugging carelessly. "But I'm not lying. I know him, and I can see the way he looks at you."

"What does it even _matter _to you?"

"I want to fix something!" I blurt out honestly. "I just want to make it up, and I just want him to stop being so miserable all the time."

"His _father _died. Do you think he's going to be turning back flips in the Great Hall?"

"I _know _his father died," I say, actually taking offense to that. "He was my uncle, remember?"

"And he was Hugo's _dad." _She sneers at me for half a second before shaking her head. "Look, Hugo's messed up over that…. Over e_verything. _It's not, it's not the right time." Her voice trails off toward the end of her statement, and she sounds sad but resolute. I actually feel kind of sorry for her.

"I think it's the perfect time," I say quietly and seriously. Amanda just looks at me, probably wondering what the hell I'm on about or why I'm attempting a civilized conversation at all. "He needs somebody right now…"

I wish _I _could do something, but he doesn't even want to look at me. There's so much that I want to tell him, and I can't because he won't listen. So if this is the only way I can make sure he's got something decent in his life, then I'm willing to do it. Amanda stares at me and says nothing for what seems like a rather long time. Then she shakes her head.

"We're late," she says simply, and she takes off walking.

I go a couple of seconds later, a few steps behind her as she hurries down to the corridor towards the Transfiguration classroom. Maybe she isn't going to do anything. Maybe she hates me and will do exactly the opposite of anything I suggest. Still, though, I need to at least try. I need to know Hugo's okay.

Even if there's no one else in the world I care about, I still want him to be alright. He's my best friend. It shocks me a little bit to realize that, but I do. It was always Hugo and me. Someday maybe it'll be that way again.

In the meantime, the best I can do is watch him find happiness with _his _best friend.

And somehow, somewhere in the end, things may just work out.

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A/N: Sooo, I think we're done with Lily. I know she didn't get some amazing resolution, but sometimes things are like that. Thanks for reading! You guys are the best! And reviews are amazing!


	55. May 18th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chatper 55

**MAY 18****th**

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It was a simple cemetery on the outskirts of St. Ottery Catchpole. It was small and plain, and there were just rows of scattered tombstones marking the graves of some of the local Wizarding families. It was the same cemetery in which his brother Fred had been buried nearly three decades earlier, and it would likely eventually become the final resting place for most of their family. In the years that had passed since Fred's death, she'd visited it countless times, and she felt nearly as if she knew it by heart.

Collingwood. Myers. Sanderson. Fawcett. And then some more familiar names…

Cedric Diggory- his tombstone gleamed of pale marble, and the site of his grave was well-kept and had changed little in the thirty years since his death. It seemed to be frozen in time- much the way Cedric himself was forever frozen as a teenager who simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A couple of rows over, there's a double tombstone with the name LOVEGOOD etched at the top in flawless script. Below, there were two names, Alexandria and Xenophillius, with the dates of their births and deaths etched underneath. This grave wasn't as well-kept, and the flowers that had been enchanted to bloom at the base of the tombstone seemed to be missing several petals and leaves. It looked almost deliberate, as if someone had nicked bits of the flowers and run off with them.

"Probably nargles," she mumbled to herself, pulling out her wand and conjuring a fresh, colorful bouquet. She knelt down and laid the fresh flowers carefully beside the sparse ones. Then she lifted a hand and held it to the surname on the stone and closed her eyes for a second. She had such an intense affection for Luna that she felt she owed it to her to visit her parents' graves and look after them whenever she happened through.

Fred was a couple of stones behind the Lovegoods. There was never a shortage of flowers or brightly colored fanfare on his grave. Even after all these years, it was still looked after and visited regularly. She looked over it for a few moments, making sure that everything was alright and in order before routinely kissing her fingertips and lowering them to the top of her brother-in-law's stone.

Normally, this would be the end of her visit. But behind Fred, there was a new stone. It was made of marble that seemed to gleam even more brightly than Cedric's. She had not yet seen it, as it was only erected earlier that morning. It had taken nearly two months for the preparation, which was standard, of course, but was also annoying. She didn't understand the purpose of having magical abilities if things as simple as erecting tombstones took sixty days or more. Before the stone was placed, the grave was simply marked with a tiny plate and multiple bouquets of fresh flowers. Now, though, the flowers were cleared, and all that stood was the tall white stone that seemed to taunt her from the short distance away.

She stared at its back for what might have been two minutes or two hours. She wasn't sure. She wasn't particularly sure of anything except for the fact that her heart felt as though it was soon going to beat out of her chest. She was conscious, of course, that two guards stood watching her from just outside the cemetery gates, but she couldn't make herself care or behave any differently just because there were people watching. Her heart was racing, and she felt her pulse pick up as well. The temperature seemed to rise twenty degrees in the time she spent staring at the back of the stone.

Finally, she forced herself to walk toward it. She was surprised, frankly, that her feet were even capable of producing steps. Her knees felt wobbly, and she felt certain that they were going to give out at any second and that she was going to fall over. She didn't, though. Somehow, she found herself within inches of the front of the tombstone, but it took her several more moments before she could force her eyes to lower to it.

_RONALD B WEASLEY_

_Beloved Husband, Father, Son, Brother, and Friend_

That was his name. She repeated this strange revelation to herself as her legs seemed to bend of their own accord. She found herself on her knees, sitting in the newly regrown grass and facing the stone, which seemed impossibly whiter and even larger from this view. It was strangely menacing, but she couldn't take her eyes away from it.

She read each word over and over, at least fifty times. The words were simple and generic, but she found herself desperate to commit them to memory exactly as they were carved. She watched helplessly as her hand seemed to work on its own and reach out to feel the words as she reread them. Her fingertips traced every single letter, slowly and deliberately. R-O-N-A-L-D. _Ronald. _She only ever called him that when she was angry or wanted to prove a point. Her fingers seemed to tingle as they traced the letters carefully and then finally reached out to touch the marble, which was surprisingly cool for such a warm day.

"You can't hear me." She heard herself speaking before she even realized what she was doing. Her voice felt trapped the second she realized that she was speaking, and she closed her eyes briefly in an attempt to gather her thoughts coherently. "You can't hear me…" she repeated, more quietly this time as she opened her eyes to look once upon the stone in front of her.

It was a warm day, and the sun was much too bright for such a depressing scene. She figured that it should be darker and duller and that clouds should be the only thing in the sky. She didn't feel like seeing the sun, and she wished that it was chillier. She felt as if she should bundle up, but the temperature was too high to do this legitimately. So she just sat there on her knees and stared at the words in front of her.

"I don't know why you left," she said softly, knowing how stupid it was to be speaking to a tombstone and a tuft of grass but not caring. "You shouldn't have. And I'm angry." The words came quietly but firmly. She felt as if they'd been lingering on her tongue for ages- words she wanted desperately to say but had, so far, been too frightened to say out loud. The sight of the tombstone, though, seemed to have given her otherwise untapped courage.

"You hurt me," she muttered, picking aimlessly at a blade of grass beside her. "And you hurt the kids." She couldn't say anything immediately afterwards because the thought of the kids made her stomach hurt. The pain that was evident in their faces stung her, despite the fact that they rarely voiced it.

"Rose went back to school," she finally went on. "She wants to focus on psychology. I guess we didn't waste our money…" She stared aimlessly in front of her, making a humorless attempt at a joke they had often made. It felt empty. She kept talking nonetheless, figuring that it couldn't possibly make her feel any worse. "Scorpius takes care of her. He really loves her."

They were gone now, Scorpius and Rose, and she couldn't help but realize how completely empty the house felt now. It was much quieter and lonelier, and she still wasn't quite used to it. She was happy, of course, that Rose had decided to return to school, but it hurt her to watch her leave. It felt as if she was sending her off to Hogwarts for the first time all over again. And she'd grown so used to having Scorpius around that she felt his absence nearly as much as she did the other kids.

"And Hugo's nearly done with school," she went on lowly, murmuring now more than actually talking. "I can't believe it. He's got NEWTs in less than a month. I feel like he should still be eight years old… That baby isn't his. You never knew that. He still wants to help her, though…"

She was speaking randomly and saying things that seemed completely mundane at the moment, but she didn't know what else to say. If she was going to make a fool of herself by talking to a tombstone, she figured that she should at least give updates on the children. She didn't know what else was important enough to tell a slab of engraved marble.

"Landon is lonely," she admitted quietly. "Now that the others are gone, he doesn't have any distractions. He stays with your mum a lot, and mine… I don't know how to keep up with everything by myself… Last night, he asked me if you really weren't ever coming back…"

When he'd caught her up right before bed and asked her the question nervously, she'd almost started crying right there. She was struggling to keep things together, but it was so hard to help a seven year old in understanding death and mortality. She knew that he got, but she knew that he didn't understand. She had no answers for him, of course, because she herself did not fully understand.

"I need you to come back," she whispered softly, gazing intently at his name as if that would somehow make him materialize out of thin air. "I need you here… I don't know what to do without you…"

Truer words had never been spoken, and she felt a horrible constriction on her lungs, which made it difficult for her to breathe. Her whole body ached with the need for him to somehow concede to her wishes and come back. She closed her eyes again, trying to block out the pain that was consuming her, and when she felt a hand on her shoulder, she nearly choked.

Her eyes flew open, and she jerked her head up to see the visitor. Her heart fell as she saw, not red hair and blue eyes staring back at her, but black hair and green eyes. She'd never been less pleased to see Harry in her entire life, and the tears welled up before she even registered them.

He lowered himself to the ground to sit beside her, and the hand on her shoulder moved to her waist. She felt tears splash onto her cheeks, and she watched as he, too, studied the stone and seemed to take in every single letter slowly and separately.

"How did you know I was here?" she mumbled through her tears.

He simply answered, "Where else would you be?"

It was a fair assumption, she assumed, as she'd been waiting on, and dreading, this day since the moment they'd buried him. She didn't say anything else right away, just continued to cry quiet tears as he hugged her waist gently. It seemed as if hours passed as they just sat there silently. Finally, Harry seemed to feel the need to break the silence.

"It's nice."

It was a simple observation, but she felt everything inside of her pain at his words. She was having problems breathing, and she felt quite as though she might simply pass out right there.

"Harry," she said, and it came out as more of a whisper than anything. "Do you remember when we first went to Godric's Hollow? And we saw where your parents were buried?"

She saw him give a little nod, though he said nothing.

"How did you feel?"

She turned her head slightly to look at him. His own eyes were wet as he stared determinedly in front of him and avoided her eye contact. She felt her own tears fall a bit more rapidly, though she paid them little notice.

After contemplating the question for probably an entire minute, Harry finally answered. "Like I wanted to be with them…"

She nodded once and turned her head back to face front. "Good," she said simply.

She could now feel Harry staring at _her, _and she understood his previous need to avoid eye contact. "Why is that good?"

"Because it means I'm not cracking up," she mumbled. "I was just checking."

The truth was, she was miserable. She couldn't help imagining how peaceful it must be to buried under all that ground with no pain and no regrets and no worry. It would also, she recognized, bring her back to him. And that was what she wanted more than anything. She felt selfish, though, for even thinking about it, knowing how badly her children needed her and knowing that she would never, ever abandon them willingly. But it was okay to imagine, she figured, especially if it didn't necessarily mean she was going mental.

"You're not crazy," he told her, squeezing her waist just slightly. "I know what it feels like."

He did, she supposed, know what it must feel like to want to join the dead. When they were younger, his entire family was buried beneath the earth, and she could understand fully for the first time ever how painful it must have been to look at their tombstones and see their names and know that their bones were resting directly below. She wondered if it was harder or easier to be a child with no parents than to be middle-aged and widowed. It didn't matter.

"I miss him," she admitted, speaking candidly about Ron for one of the first times since his death. She normally avoided the topic and changed it when people asked her how she was. But here, in the cemetery with Harry, she didn't feel the need to hide anything.

"I know," he murmured, and she could hear the longing in his own voice, though they both avoided each other's eyes again.

"I miss him so much that it _hurts," _she whispered, and she heard her voice break a little. "I need him to tell me what I'm supposed to do. I don't know what to _do…"_

"I forget sometimes," Harry said quietly. "That he's not here, I mean… But then I remember…"

His voice trailed, but she didn't need to ask for clarification. She understood perfectly. She, too, had moments when she forgot. Sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night and rolled over to bury her face in his back but was simply met with empty air. Sometimes at work, she would hear a particularly interesting bit of gossip and think that she couldn't wait to tell him. But then she would remember. And the pain would start all over again.

They sat in silence for a long time again, and she wasn't too bothered by it. It was somehow comforting to be here with Harry. If there was one person she needed at this moment, it was him. Eventually, she tilted her head slightly and lowered it to his shoulder. She felt as if she was in a time warp of some sorts, though, and was somehow much older and, yet, much younger than she really was. She couldn't explain it.

"Ginny and I are getting divorced."

The statement seemed to come out of nowhere, breaking into the comforting silence like an explosion. Hermione immediately lifted her head and turned to look at him. He met her eyes fully for the first time since his appearance, and they stared at each other for several seconds.

"When did you decide that?" she finally asked, not knowing what reaction she should have.

"Two days ago," he said, and his voice sounded heavy and tired. "We're going to start on it next week."

"I'm… sorry," she said, wondering if that was the appropriate response. She didn't know what else to say. She'd known, of course, that they weren't on the best of terms, but she didn't know it had come to that point. She felt suddenly guilty for the falling out she'd had with Ginny, but she'd never fully forgiven her for the things she'd said or the accusations she'd made. She realized, though, that she hadn't heard Ginny's feelings about the state of her marriage at all, and she regretted it.

Harry, though, just shrugged one shoulder and lowered his eyes to the grass in front of them instead. "There's no other choice really," he said dully. "We've been trying to fix it for years, but it just keeps breaking…" She watched as a different type of sadness than his previous grief took over his features. "We can't even say we're doing it for the kids anymore, now that they're all grown…"

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

He nodded and looked back up at her. "Yeah. It's the right thing."

She nodded, too, unsure of what to say. She felt the sudden urge to go comfort Ginny, but there was still so much anger weighing on her that she wasn't sure how easy it would be.

"You're the only one who knows," he told her. "I wanted you to know first."

Her heart felt heavy for them, but, at the same time, she felt as if she couldn't relate. They were choosing to give up on their marriage when hers had been ripped away from her without warning. Perhaps it was different, as it was no secret that Harry and Ginny were plagued with problems. She and Ron had never had those problems. She had never doubted him or their relationship in any way in all the years that they were together. So she had difficulty relating to Harry and Ginny who would willingly give each other up when all she wanted in the world was to simply hear Ron's voice one more time.

Perhaps it was her silence that caused Harry to cotton onto the fact that she was at a loss of words because he put a hand into his trouser pocket and said, "I have something to give you."

She watched as he pulled out a tiny silver ring that looked rather old and tarnished. She stared at it in his hands for a long moment before looking back at him questioningly.

"I found it when I was packing," he explained, and his voice was strained and sad. "It's the first ring Ron ever bought you."

She didn't understand. She'd never seen it before in her life. She looked from the ring to Harry and back again, confused.

"He bought it right before he went to the Auror Academy," Harry said softly. "He was going to propose to you, but then he decided the ring was too cheap and simple… So he asked me to hold it while he tried to get a better one…" He swallowed and then nodded at her hand. "He finally borrowed the money from George to get that one."

"I…" Hermione felt dizzy as she stared at the silver band. "I don't understand…"

"I told him you wouldn't care," Harry went on. "But he said he wanted you to have something you deserved… But it was hard to save, I guess, because he finally borrowed the money and paid it back secretly for over a year."

She looked down at the ring on her finger. The small diamond glistened back up at her in the sunlight, and she remembered the moment she'd received it. She'd never known that it took more than a year to pay for. But it made sense. In those days, when she was entry-level at the Ministry and he was working backup at WWWs, they'd spent every sickle they had on rent and food. It wasn't until after her first promotion and his entry into the Auror department that they had any sort of real money at all.

"I think he forgot about this one," Harry said, breaking into her memories. "I forgot about it, too. But I found it yesterday buried in an old box in the attic. I just… It's yours."

He held it out to her, and she took it timidly, feeling the cool silver between her fingertips as she held it closer for inspection. It _was_ cheap, and it was old and scratched and turning slightly gray.

It was the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen in her life.

The tears sprang back to her eyes, and she felt them spill over easily. Her whole chest seemed to be crushed, and she found it difficult to breathe for the second time within a few minutes. As she slipped the ring onto her finger, she felt a sudden relief that she hadn't yet felt. It seemed as if one of the many holes in her heart had been filled. The pain was still there, overwhelmingly so, but for the first time since his death, she actually felt Ron there with her for a few moments.

She hugged Harry, turning her whole body to wrap both arms around his torso. It was a hug mixed with grief and gratitude and sympathy. She felt that he needed it as much as she did, and she felt inexplicably comforted by the return of his embrace.

"I love you," she whispered into his shoulder.

He didn't need to say it back because she knew. Ever since they were children, they'd been the closest thing to brothers and sisters that each had ever had. When they grew up and became in-laws, that was cemented. And even if that was now coming apart, their relationship would never change. He was truly her brother, and she'd never felt closer to him than she did in that moment.

Eventually, they stopped embracing, and he stood up. He reached a hand down for her, and she took it as he helped her to her feet. They both took another long look at the tombstone, and then Harry conjured a simple bouquet of white roses and placed them in front of the stone. And then, just as they had done so many years ago in Godric's Hollow, he put an arm around her shoulder and she put hers around his waist.

And with their arms around each other, they walked silently from the cemetery, both reflecting on the past and the prospect of the future.

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A/N: Yes, the story is coming to an end shortly. All the kids will get their final chapter, though, so that's at least six more. As for a sequel…. Well, how about a prequel? I'm going to do another story, but it's going to be pre-kids and is going to focus on the adults a few years out of Hogwarts. It's going to completely fit into this universe, though, and some of the events that have been discussed in these stories (like the ring in this chapter) are going to be the basis for the new story. That'll come once this is wrapped, though, so I hope you guys will tune in for that. Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, you guys are awesome!


	56. Kate, May 26th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 56

**KATE**

**May 26****th**

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MINISTER OF MAGIC BREAKS SILENCE

_In an exclusive interview with _The Quibbler_, Britain's Minister of Magic, Hermione Weasley, speaks for the first time about her husband's death and the current state of magical affairs._

_In the more than two months since her husband's death, Weasley has kept quiet about the murder and the arrest of a suspect in the case. Finally breaking her silence, she exclusively reveals details of the impending trial and what the public can expect from the outcome. She states that the suspect has been formally charged and that a trial date has been tentatively set for mid-summer. When asked about rumored bargaining, she dismisses the claims with a wave of her hand._

"_The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is not in the habit of bargaining with murderers, and the suspect on hand will either name names or be solely charged in every crime he has ties to. The number of people he is suspected of having a hand in murdering amounts to more than twenty, and if he does not wish to be the sole person convicted of the crimes, he will start offering up information."_

_While she is quick to dismiss rumors of plea bargains, she is also firm in her belief that people are presumed innocent until proven guilty. "It is up to the prosecution to prove that this is the man responsible for the deaths. If they do so, he will be rightly punished. However, if they cannot prove his connection, he will regain his freedom, and we will begin again." She says that the Ministry is not prepared to give up the fight and will do whatever they have to in order to make sure that the proper person or persons are convicted of the murders. _

"_This is not just about my husband. He was simply the last in a long line of people who were murdered for ridiculous blood prejudices. I want justice for those families as much as I want it for my own."_

_The upcoming trial is not the only thing on the Minister's mind, though. Just months after her husband's death, she finds herself in the midst of a rumor mill that can't seemingly be stopped. The day after her brother-in-law and longtime friend, Harry Potter, announced his divorce, supposed eye-witness accounts surfaced of an alleged proposal. Witnesses claim that they saw Potter propose to Weasley over the very grave in which her husband is buried. When asked about these rumors, Weasley grows visibly angry, and she has trouble forming words for a moment. _

"_That story is absolutely false and absolutely ludicrous. I don't normally make a habit of addressing tabloid rumors, but that one is particularly upsetting. Not only because it makes light of my husband's death, but also because it is exceptionally detrimental to my family's well-being." She pauses here and looks out the window as though formulating words. When she speaks again, her voice sounds firmer and surer. "My children are intelligent and are certainly able to differentiate between legitimate stories and completely ludicrous rumors, but they are going through a very difficult time right now. They have just lost their father, and the last thing they need to see is a completely made-up story that involves me, their uncle, and their father's grave. It infuriates me."_

_When asked about the Potters' impending separation, though, she has little to say. "What's happening in their family is tragic and sad, but it is not my place to comment on it. I will say, though, that their children are suffering the same as mine are. They are not benefiting from idiotic wild-spun rumors, either. As I said before, I normally don't even feel the need to comment on such idiocy, but I draw the line when it comes to a point where it is negatively impacting my children and my nieces and nephews."_

_Weasley is no stranger to loss, but it is obvious that she is not yet fully adjusting to the loss of her husband. She tears up several times during the interview, and at one point, even asks to halt the questions for a brief period of time while she collects herself. _

"_It's very difficult," she says, once the interview resumes itself. "I wake up every day and feel like I'm caught in a nightmare. I feel like that person in a horror story who is trapped and can't wake up. It's terrible." Clearly uncomfortable discussing the subject, she is surprisingly candid about what most upsets her. "I worry about my kids every single day. I worry that they didn't get enough time with their father, especially my youngest. He's only seven years old, and he has to spend his entire childhood without a dad. Of course it bothers me! It's not fair. It's not fair that they have to miss out on having their father there for all their milestones. It's not fair that he'll never meet his grandchildren or that they'll never know what a great person their grandfather was. This is a man who devoted his entire life to fighting off prejudices exactly like the one that ultimately killed him. My mother and father-in-law have now been forced to bury _two _of their children, both of whom were lost to murder_. _So no, I don't understand it, and I'm sure I never will. But all I can do now is just move forward and try to find justice."_

_In all her years in the public eye, Weasley has rarely spoken about the war she found herself in the forefront of as a teenager. History books record the period as they see fit, and there are more than enough people who claim to have been just as involved and are willing to give personal accounts. Still, it is no secret that Weasley, her husband, and, of course, Potter found themselves entrenched in something far more dangerous than most wizards who were twice their age would have dared attempt. The details of their adventures, though, are fuzzy, as they've rarely been spoken about by the people who actually lived them. Weasley, though, hints at them as she discusses her husband._

"_That was the scariest time of my life. I woke up every day wondering if I would wake up the next. It's not something you can put into words, the constant fear of death and knowing that it could come at any moment. Or, even worse, that it could come for the people you love. It was terrified. Ron was there with me during all of that. He took care of me and always promised me that things would be okay, even when I was positive that they wouldn't. And even though I knew he had no idea what was going to happen, it comforted me. That's when I knew that he would sacrifice anything in the world to save the people he loved. And when someone takes care of you that way, it's impossible not to fall in love with them." She tears up again, but she carries on this time. "That's the man I married, and he did nothing but get even better every single day of his life. So it's impossible for me to say exactly how badly I'm hurting right now. I just feel lost, and every single day, I struggle just to get out of bed. But life has to go on, my kids can't wait and my job can't wait. I have to keep going, but that doesn't mean that I'm not in constant pain."_

The article goes on for ages. It really _is _the most in depth article I've ever seen of actual firsthand accounts. I asked James why she would choose to go to _The Quibbler _with such an important interview when the most legitimate thing I've ever seen them print was an article about the healing power of gurdyroots, which, trust me, wasn't very legitimate at all. But James said that his family normally always goes to _The Quibbler _when they want something printed accurately because they know the owner of the paper. Apparently she's his sister's godmother even- her kids were a few years behind me in Ravenclaw, but they didn't seem nearly as mad as James makes their mum out to be. I don't think she actually works for the paper or does any writing, but she makes sure that it doesn't print any fake stories or rumors about the Weasleys or the Potters, which is saying a lot more than _The Daily Prophet- _the supposed "reputable" newspaper.

James read the full article several times before finally putting it up on a shelf out of the way of the bin. I don't know why he wants to keep it, but he said that it proves that his entire family is _not _fucked up and that they at least have some semblance of normalcy. I think it's really because it proves that someone cares about him, though, of course, he'd never say that. It's also a welcome relief from the other stories floating around- the ones that link him and Rose as future step-siblings.

He's taking the news of his parents' divorce rather well, actually- better than I expected anyway. Luckily, he heard it from them _before _he read about it in the papers. They invited his brother and us over for dinner on Sunday evening, and I somehow managed to convince James to go. He was dead set against it at first, of course, but I told him to make peace with the situation. I know that things aren't easy for him right now, but my mother always told me to face problems head on or let them overpower you. So that's what I told James, and eventually, he agreed to go. His mother said that there was something important they needed to talk about, so I think James probably knew what was coming before we even set foot in his parents' house.

I wasn't too eager myself to go, considering the last time I was at their house, his mother blew up, called me a gold-digger, and pretty much admitted that she wished James had never been born. It's not exactly the type of scene you really want to return to. Still, I want James to have some semblance of normalcy with his family, so I went along willingly. The scene this time was much different from the last, though. Both of his parents were extremely polite to me, and they gave no indication whatsoever that things had blown up at my last appearance. His mother offered me a glass of wine straight away, and his father started mindless, friendly small talk. James, for what it's worth, did not go into the situation angrily or immediately start swearing out his parents or anything. He did, however, go straight for the liquor cabinet and pour himself a rather large drink. His parents either didn't notice or didn't care because no one else seemed bothered by the fact that he filled a tall glass three-fourths of the way full of Muggle vodka and then topped it off with perhaps an ounce of grape juice. I didn't say anything, either- in the interest of keeping the peace, of course.

His brother showed up a few minutes later and looked nearly about as eager as James to be attending the family dinner, that is to say, not eager at all. He didn't employ the same coping mechanism, though, and avoided the liquor cabinet altogether. Instead, he just sat down on the sofa in the sitting room and pretended to be extremely interested in the newspaper that was sitting on the end table. I just stood around awkwardly and waited for dinner to begin.

It was pretty obvious from the moment we arrived what the big announcement was going to be, but I guess there's no way to really prepare for that sort of thing. My mother's been divorced six times, and I still get a bit shocked whenever she announces another one. James and Al both knew what was happening before it was ever verbalized, and they kept shooting each other secret little glances that held not-so-secret messages. The funny thing, though, was that their parents couldn't have been nicer that night- both to all of us and to each other. James said later that that was the nicest his parents had been to each other in ages. It was overly polite sort of nice, but it was nice nonetheless.

The announced the divorce over dessert. It had been building for ages, they said, and they'd done everything they knew to do in order to sort it out. They could get along for months, or even years, at a time, but eventually, things always fell apart again. They weren't happy, they said, and hadn't been for awhile. They'd discussed every option, and this was the best one. It all sounded so formal and so simple. It was sad, though, because both of his parents looked like they were ready to dissolve into tears the entire time but were putting on fake smiles for their children's sake.

James said nothing, just continued to drain the vodka in his glass and study the wood of the table. Al didn't seem to have anything to say, either, but he seemed to think it was required, so he asked about Lily. They said that they were going to let her know straightaway and that she, too, would get the news in person from both of them. They didn't want a repeat of the last time they'd decided to separate when the paper delivered the news before they had a chance to. Especially since it was for real this time.

And that was that.

Two days later, they made a formal announcement to the press, and a day after that, _The Daily Prophet _ran a story stating that eyewitness accounts placed his father proposing to his godmother over the grave of his godfather. It was all very fucked up. That story, in particular, upset James, even though he didn't give a single hint that he believed any of it. It was disrespectful, he said, of his uncle. And he rightly guessed that it would particularly upset Rose who would hear the story in Ireland and have no one to comfort her. He didn't think that she would believe it, of course, but he knew that it would bother her greatly.

I think that's why he wanted to save _The Quibbler. _That interview with his aunt proves that someone, at least, understands how painful lies and rumors could be even without a hint of truth to them. It also proves that someone is on his side. His aunt mentioned him and his siblings as well as her own children in the list of people affected by the various situations and stories. Even if he won't admit, I think that means a lot to him.

He's being rather helpful, setting the table and offering to do half the cooking. I shoo him straight out of the kitchen, though, because I want to make this meal for him. I have a very important announcement, and I want him to enjoy the moment as much as I am. I'm getting better at cooking, but I'm still no expert, of course. He doesn't seem to mind. It's not as if he's some genius chef, either, and when he _does _want a genius chef, he can simply employ one for the evening and get whatever spectacular meal he wants out of it. I guess that's an upside to being a Potter and ridiculously wealthy.

I'm starting to realize other ups as well.

When we finally sit down at the table, I finally give him the opportunity to actually do something, so he takes it upon himself to start serving up the portions. He's good at that and has obviously been paying attention because he leaves the butternut completely off my plate (gross) and realizes that I made it specifically for him (disgusting).

"So are you finally going to tell me what's got you so happy?" he asks, topping off his wine glass before pouring some into mine as well.

"Guess," I tell him, smiling widely.

But James just shakes his head. "The last time I was at the dinner table for a big announcement, it turned out to be divorce. So if that's where this is headed… I'll just take the alcohol and run."

I laugh and kick him straight in the knee. He catches my foot under the table, though, and slips my shoe off. I hear it drop to the floor at the same time I feel his thumb start to knead into the ball of my foot.

"You're about to eat with those hands," I remind him smartly, though I've got to be absolutely bonkers to complain about _this. _He does magical, magical things with his fingers, and foot massages are not lost in that.

"It would be gross," he agrees, "if you didn't have the cleanest feet of any person I've ever seen in my life."

"They're still feet."

"Yeah, but yours are inhumanly clean. I'd eat _off _of them." He's deadpanning now, and I just roll my eyes and jerk my foot away.

"I'm about to keep my secret all to myself," I say seriously. James just pulls a begging face.

"No, tell me," he says, picking up a forkful of tenderloin and holding it out for me. "I'll feed you for it."

He's just being stupid now, but I take the bait and take the bite before he even has a chance to notice.

"Okay, now you _have _to tell me," he says, settling back in his chair and looking on attentively.

I can't hold it in anymore anyway, so I break. "I got a promotion!"

James just looks at me for a second. I can tell he wasn't expecting the 'big announcement' to be about work, but after that second passes, he really looks pleased. "That's fantastic!" he says, and his tone is sincere and real.

I can't help mirroring his smile because seriously, I'm _really _excited. I was barely able to keep it a secret even through dinner preparations. The second I found out, I just wanted to right home and shout it.

"I know!" I say, excitedly. "It's so great!"

"Is it in the same department or what?"

I bite my lip, barely able to contain myself. In fact, an excited little squeal slips out before I break the rest of the news. "I get to go train with the Curse Breakers!"

His eyes widen slightly, and he looks as happy for me as I feel. "That's great!"

It is. I've wanted to be a Curse Breaker forever- that's the whole reason I went to work for Gringott's in the first place. But everyone and their brother wants to be a Curse Breaker, so I was starting to give up hope. But then…

"I think your uncle may have had a hand in getting me the job," I admit. "But that's okay, right? I mean, it's not _really _nepotism, is it? I've applied a million times, and I _think_ I'm qualified…"

James is staring at me with one of those completely James-like blank stares. He has no idea what nepotism means… I laugh as the thought occurs to me, and then I shrug it off.

"But still," I say seriously, "I'm really excited."

He looks excited for me, too, which just makes me happier. "When do you start training?"

"In three weeks." I hesitate before saying the next part. "I have to go to Egypt…"

"To _Egypt?!" _The excited look on his face fades instantly, and he stares at me as if I've lost my mind.

"It's only for six months," I say quickly. "And you'll be off in a month or so after the post-season, so you can come for the summer. And then after those six months, they said I can definitely come back to London." I'd cleared the details right away, already anticipating the part of the news that James would find less than fantastic.

He still doesn't look too pleased, but I think he can tell how happy I am, so he holds it in. He forces the smile back on his face and nods. "That's really awesome," he says honestly. "I'm so proud of you!"

I want to jump into his lap and throw my arms around his neck and hug him so tightly that neither of us can breathe, but I don't. There's still dinner on the table, and we've barely even begun to eat. I meant to keep the announcement until we were finished, but I couldn't stand it a second longer. I can't even control the happiness that seems to be bubbling up inside me. Yes, I'm fairly certain that Bill Weasley put in a good word for me, but I can't make myself feel _too _bad because I honestly feel like I'm qualified and deserve this chance. I've been waiting for this ever since I finished Hogwarts, and I'm finally getting the chance.

My life is so damn near perfect at the moment that I'm sure I should be terrified.

I'm in love. I'm _married. _I'm about to start my dream job. And everything in my life is just falling straight into place. It's like my life has done a complete turnaround in the past few months. It's crazy to think that this time last year, I was engaged to some bastard who never really knew me and didn't g_et _me at all. He may have been good for me on the surface, but he never could have made me feel the way I feel now. Every single morning when I wake up and roll over, I just feel like happiness is exploding out of me.

I just love my life!

I know it's silly and superficial and makes me sound like a twelve year old girl, but I never even dreamed I would ever be _this _happy. But I am.

And as far as I'm concerned, things can only get better.

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A/N: And that's Kate. She got a happy ending this time around at least! Thanks for reading, sorry it took a bit longer. Please review!


	57. Hugo, June 4th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 57

**HUGO**

**June 4****th**

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The NEWTs are killing me.

Literally. I mean, I completely expect to wake up dead tomorrow. I'm _that _exhausted. I'm also rather shit at all my subjects, so I'm not too certain that I'll even earn a single one. Actually, I don't really think I'll fail anything, I'm just not entirely certain that my scores will be anything to brag about. It's not like I'm going to be Rose all over and go home boasting eight NEWTs or anything (considering the fact that I'm only attempting five…), but hopefully I'll at least do alright.

When the Charms NEWT finishes, I'm one of the last people left in the examination hall. I finished just under the clock, and I'm not very sure that I got even half the questions correct. Oh, well. There's no point in worrying about it now- what's done is done, isn't it? I certainly don't seem to be the _only _person who struggled, though, seeing as how when I make it back to the Common Room, half the people in my class are sprawled out on the sofas and chairs looking positively spent. One person who does _not _look so concerned is Lily, as she's off at one of the tables with her Potions book out cramming for the next exam but not seeming worried in the least. Apparently she's been spending her evenings in tutoring and is actually aiming to score fairly well on her tests, which is surprising because in all the seven years that we've been here, she's never actually cared about school at all.

Things are slightly better between us. They're definitely not back to normal, and I definitely haven't completely forgiven her for what she did… But I couldn't help feeling awful for her when her parents showed up to announce their divorce. I found out about it because Amanda told me. I don't know when or _how _that happened, but Amanda and Lily actually speak now- and in a non-combative sort of tone, too. That's saying quite a lot, of course, because they've spent the last three years hating each other. But since Lily doesn't really talk to any of her so-called "friends" anymore, she's taken to confiding in Amanda, I suppose.

I was upset, too, when I found out. I mean, her parents and my parents have always been _extremely _close, so I've always thought of them as sort of my second set of parents. I spent as much time at their house while I was growing up as I did at my own- there were times when I spent _more _time there. But I guess it's all for the best. They're _not _happy, and I don't think they've really been happy for a long time. I think they were more _content _than they were actually happy, so maybe this will give them both a chance to find something that makes them feel more than just comfortable and content.

But Lily was obviously upset. I mean, even if she knows it's for the best, too, those are still her parents, so obviously she isn't going to be turning backflips when they announce their separation. So that's why I finally went and talked to her. She's been trying to talk to me for awhile, and I always blow her off. But I don't think I have it in me to just not care that her family's falling apart.

So I told her that I was sorry to hear about her parents and asked her what they said. I think she was so surprised to hear me speaking to her that she just started rambling and pretty much spilled the entire conversation, barely even stopping for breath. Her brothers already knew, her parents said it was the right thing, they said things would be, they told her they loved her, pretty much all the things you would expect to hear from parents announcing their divorce. Then she went nearly hysterical apologizing to me and telling me that she was sorry for everything and saying how bad she felt. She went on and on and on until I finally told her to stop. It doesn't matter how many times she says she's sorry, what she did is still going to be there. But I _do _think she's sincere, so the least I can do is stop being a bastard and try to exist with at least some semblance of normalcy.

She kind of gives me a little smile as I pass by her table and head toward the other end of the Common Room where Neville's office is located. I don't even know if he's in, but I guess it's worth a look. I don't particularly feel like going all the way out to the greenhouses to find him, so I'll just hope he's in his office. The door is closed when I get there, but when I knock, I hear a faint, "Come in," from the other side.

"Hugo," he says, looking up and sounding halfway surprised when I push the door open and step inside. "Come in, what's wrong?"

I don't know why something necessarily has to be _wrong, _but I guess it's not every day that I randomly pop in to chat with professors. I go over to the chairs across from his desk and sit down, shaking my head to prove that nothing's wrong.

"How are your exams going?" he asks, setting down the work he's currently doing and giving me his full attention. I know he feels like it's sort of his responsibility to make sure that I'm alright and that I don't start drowning in depression and try to off myself or something. It's almost entertaining.

"They're kicking my arse."

He tries and fails to stifle a laugh, and a little smirk works its way across his face. He sort of half nods/half shrugs. "They can be overwhelming."

"No kidding."

"So what brings you by?" he asks, cutting back to the main point at hand.

"I was just wondering," I say slowly, "if you had any applications for the Auror Academy…"

It's the first time I've said it out loud to anyone besides Amanda, and I can tell by the look on his face that he thinks it's a terrible idea. He looks at me strangely and then shakes his head questioningly. "I do. Why do you ask?"

I'm not sure it could _be _more obvious, but I humor him. "I was thinking of applying."

Neville says nothing for a moment and just watches me curiously. Finally, after ages of silence, he says, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

I honestly didn't expect him to be thrilled with my request, considering the fact that they recommend most people start applying for the academy the previous fall, but I didn't think he'd tell me it wasn't a good _idea. _That makes me feel just about like shit. "Are my grades not good enough?" I ask.

"Your grades are fine. It's just-"

"I'm taking all the required NEWTs," I cut in. "I checked all the prerequisites, and if I pass my tests, I'll have them."

"It's not the NEWTs, either," Neville says, and his voice strains. He hesitates as I look at him curiously. "I just… I'm not sure your mother would think it's such a great idea."

My mother? I raise my eyebrows, not really understanding him. "You don't think she'll think I'm cut out for it?"

Neville sighs. He's frustrated because I'm not quick enough to catch onto whatever he's alluding. I can't help it if I'm not that bright, though. Maybe I'm _not _smart enough to be an Auror…

"I just mean that I'm not sure how thrilled she's going to be about you taking up such a dangerous career."

Oh, so _that's _it. "You mean the one that killed my father," I say flatly, looking at him expectantly.

He looks a bit bothered by my bluntness, but he finally nods a little bit. "I just think it might upset her."

"I think she'll be proud," I counter without missing a beat. "And I think my dad would be, too."

"I'm sure he _would _be," Neville says calmly. "But I just think your mother might not be as happy. I think it might really worry her."

"It worries her when I take a _shower _these days," I say, rolling my eyes. "She worries about_ everything. _But I don't think she would try to stop me. I think she'll be happy I want to do something like this."

Neville still doesn't seem as sure, and he finally gives me a look that's halfway between sympathy and worry. "But _why _do you want to do this, Hugo? I've never heard you mention it before."

"Things were different before," I say simply.

"Are you trying to prove something? You don't have to live up to false expectations, you know? No one wants you to feel that way."

So clearly he thinks I'm not capable of managing it. He's just too nice to come out and say it. And I don't know what he means about false expectations. I don't even consider it to be any sort of expectations- it's just me wanting to do something to make my parents proud.

"I'm not trying to be my dad," I tell him, cutting through the bullshit and getting straight to the point he's attempting to make. "But I want to do something important. And if I'm able to help bring the people for his death to justice, then that's just an added bonus."

"The desire for revenge is amongst the most dangerous of desires." Neville sounds like he's quoting the huge portrait of Albus Dumbledore that hangs in the front hall. It sounds nearly exactly like something he would say. Of course, everyone always says that Dumbledore was the smartest person she ever knew, so maybe his random bits of knowledge aren't all stupid.

But that doesn't change anything.

"It's not revenge," I say quickly, though I sort of feel as if I'm trying to convince myself as much as I am him. I can't deny the need for vengeance that's slowly building up inside of me. Every day I try to ignore it, but it always continues to build. I want to see someone pay for my dad's murder, but obviously it's not like I can just run about searching people out and killing them, can I? I just want to do something that feels like it's _worth _it. It's really hard to explain, and I know I'm not going to make Neville understand.

"Maybe you should start out in something else and then just wait a few years to see if you're still interested. It's what your dad did."

But he's twisting the facts, and I know it. "Dad only waited because he was helping my uncle out. He wanted to go right away, and you know it."

He _does _know it, so he goes a different route. "Well, just look what happened to Al. He doesn't even want to do it anymore."

_That _makes me angry, and I don't know why he would bring it up. "Al quit because he feels guilty," I say sharply. "Because my dad died trying to save him. If you ask me, that's a really selfish reason to quit." I break for just a second before, "But nobody asks me…"

"Hugo, I'm just trying to make sure you've got all your options. The Auror Academy is really difficult, and-"

"Look," I say, cutting him off, "I know I'm not as smart as my sister, okay? Trust me, I've known that my _whole _life. But my dad and uncle were never really that brilliant with books, either, and I think they both did okay, don't you?"

"I just think you should give it some thought is all," he says defensively. "I don't think you've thought it through."

I want to pull my own hair out, but I don't. I just say (as politely as possible), "I'm not trying to be rude, but it's really not any of your business. I was just wondering if you had any applications. If you don't, that's fine, I'll just get one from my uncle."

I realize that no matter how _polite _I tried to make the sentence sound, it was still probably the rudest thing that's ever come out of my mouth directed at a professor. He looks slightly taken aback, but he shuts up and stops trying to talk me out of it. Instead, he simply pulls open a drawer under his desk and hands me a stack of paperwork. The application has got to be ten pages long, and I look at it dauntingly before looking back up at Neville.

"Thank you," I say simply. I don't stick around any longer, and when I get back out to the Common Room, it's much fuller. The younger students have all returned from their afternoon lessons, so the bevy of exhausted Seventh Years is less visible. Lily's not at her table anymore, so I assume she's either gone upstairs or left the Tower altogether. I also don't spot Amanda right away, but I finally see her over by the staircase with her Potions book open, trying to do a bit of last-minute revising herself.

"So I think your dad hates me," I say, falling onto the step beside her, not caring that I'm apparently disturbing her. It doesn't matter anyway. Some last minute cramming is not going to do anything to help her with her Potions NEWT, since we're both complete crap at it anyway.

"And do you think this for any particular reason… or just because?" she asks silkily as she looks up at me with raised eyebrows.

"I told him that it wasn't his business if I wanted to apply to the Aurors."

She looks like she doesn't know whether to be horrified or amused. She settles with neither and just shakes her head. "Why would you say that?"

"Because he kept trying to talk me out of it!" I defend quickly. "He kept saying that it wasn't a good idea and that I was going to upset my mother."

"_Do _you think it'll upset your mother?"

I shrug and duck my head to the stairs for a second before looking back up. "I think she'll be proud of me doing something important," I say, nearly quoting the same answer I gave her father earlier. "Do _you _think it'll upset her?"

"I think she's going to worry about you, yeah," she says, but when I open my mouth to protest, she cuts me off. "But I think she'll be proud of you. I don't think she'll tell you not to do it."

That means a lot to me, and I smile gratefully for a few seconds before lowering my voice some. "What do _you _think about it?" I ask quietly.

The air seems to tighten in the little stairwell as she looks at me intently and seems to consider her answer carefully. Finally, she responds, and her voice is nearly as quiet as my own. "I think you're really brave."

"Really?"

She nods, and she's still got that incredibly intent look on her face. "I don't think too many people could find the courage to do something so dangerous after they had to go through what your family did…"

No one's ever called me brave before. And I guess I don't really consider myself to _be _brave, either. I always just figured that I got put into Gryffindor based solely on my parents' legacy. I've never really had to _do _anything that requires a lot of bravery. The one so-called "adventure" I've had in my whole life was when I was ten years old and ended up locked in a room with my sister after she was kidnapped. I never would have been anywhere _near _there if I hadn't been stupid enough to run away looking for her. Of course, I was ten, so I can't really be held accountable for the stupidity that ran rampant through my brain at that age. It wasn't really my fault. And I didn't do anything at all that was too brave while I was there. I mostly played chess and argued with Rose- pretty much the same things I did every day as a ten year old.

So it's not like I've had to do all the stuff that my parents had to do. They actually _were _brave. They deserved their Sorting. I just ended up here by default. If anything, I've always felt a bit like a Hufflepuff trapped in the wrong Tower. Not that there's anything _wrong _with the Hufflepuffs… they're just a bit boring is all.

Amanda senses the hesitation and then says, "And I think it's really brave of you to even be able to handle everything right now. I mean, I just don't think I'd be doing so well if it were my dad."

"My mum told us we need to keep going," I answer back reluctantly.

"And your mum's the bravest woman I've ever met."

"I think so, too." And it's the truth. Even without all the stuff she did with a kid and all the stuff she does now with her job… My mother can do anything. She's managed to keep it together ridiculously well since my dad was killed. I don't think too many people could manage that so easily. But she is doing it all.

Amanda nods and carries right no. "So I think that even if she worries a lot, which she will, that she'll also understand. She'll know why you want to do it. And she knows that bravery is one of the most important things in the world."

"Really?"

"I think you're really lucky, Hugo," she tells me seriously, and her voice drops again. "Not a lot of people have parents who have done as much as yours have. And not a lot of people have people who love them so much that they'll support them no matter what. But your mum will."

Her saying that means a _lot. _I know it's true, though. My mother will always be there for me, and she'll always support me. I don't want her to worry, but I think she'll get it. She'll know why this is important. And she won't try to stop me.

"Do you think your dad hates me?" I ask, momentarily changing the subject.

She laughs and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, right. You know you're one of his favorites."

"I really didn't mean to be rude," I say honestly. "He just didn't get what I was trying to say."

"He'll get over it. He was probably just a little surprised. He's worried about your mum a lot."

I know she's right. It's nice that people are concerned about my family, so I just nod and look down at the Potions book that's still open on Amanda's lap. It reminds me with a jolt that school's almost finished. We're nearly ready to leave Hogwarts for good. It's insane to think about it because it seems like just yesterday, we were standing in the Great Hall staring at a stool that looked far too intimidating. I remember hoping that Amanda would get Sorted somewhere else because at that point, she was still rather annoying to me. She got Gryffindor, though, and then a few minutes later, so did Lily. It was then that I halfway started panicking that I was somehow _not _going to end up in Gryffindor (I had visions of the Hat shouting, _"HUFFLEPUFF!"), _and I had to wait for what seemed like a_ges _until I was the only kid left standing at the front. The very last to be Sorted.

It just feels like yesterday. I can't believe seven years have passed since then. I can't believe everything that's _happened _in those seven years. Amanda became my best friend. Lily and I grew apart. My mum became Minister of Magic. My dad died. I grew up. Funny, though, how I don't really feel too grown up at all.

And it just feels like there's so much that still needs to happen.

"Amanda," I say quietly, breaking the short silence. She looks at me curiously, and the air seems to tighten again. "What do you think is going to happen once school's done?"

She's confused, and the look on her face lets me know as much. "What're you talking about? I thought you wanted to apply to the Aurors. You already know what I'm doing." Amanda had recently accepted a job with the indexing department at Gringotts. I don't know how much she's going to enjoy it, but hopefully she won't find it too boring.

But that's not what I'm talking about.

"I don't mean our jobs," I say, struggling to get the question out without sounding like a complete twat. "I mean with us. You know… you and me." Her eyes darken a little bit, and I feel my cheeks heat up with that stupid Weasley blush. "I just mean, what do you think we are?"

Amanda says nothing for a few minutes, and then she shrugs. "We're friends, I guess."

I'm so confused. Lily's confused me even more, too, because with the few short conversations we've had lately, she's turned every single one of them into a discussion about my feelings for Amanda. Honestly, I don't really know _what _I'm feeling. I like her. A lot. But I'm scared that we just can't seem to get it right. And every time we _almost _go there, we end up with weeks of awkwardness. I don't know if it's worth it.

"Friends," I repeat slowly. "Right."

"Do you think it's something else?" she asks boldly, and I'm surprised because she's generally _never _that forward. She's looking at me expectantly, though, and it makes me even more nervous.

Taking a really deep breath, I'm finally completely honest with her. "I think I'd _like_ it to be something else," I tell her quietly. "But I don't want us to not be friends, either…"

I hope she understands what I'm trying to say because I don't know how to really put it into words. She seems to, though, because she frowns a little bit and then nods. "I know."

"But you know, my parents were friends first…"

"I'm not sure we're like your parents, though," she mumbles. "They're a lot stronger than I think we are."

I don't know exactly what she's referring to, but I just swallow and nod.

"But maybe we can try," she goes on, and I look up to see that she's offering the tiniest bit of a smile. "And just see what happens?"

Just see what happens.

It sounds like the best plan I've heard. I don't want to try and plan a destiny out for myself or for us. Just seeing how it goes sounds great actually. After all, if we're _really _friends, then it shouldn't matter what else happens, right? I already know how to love Amanda. She's the best person I know. If something more can happen, then that'll just be added bonus, right?

We've got forever to find out.

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A/N: And that's Hugo! Next up, I think Scorpius? Sounds like a plan! Thanks for reading!


	58. Scorpius, June 8th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 58

**SCORPIUS**

**June 8****th**

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Landon's a pretty cool kid.

It's kind of surprising that I'm saying that now, seeing as how a few months ago, I was positive that he was the reincarnation of Satan himself. I always had to hide that particular train of thought, of course, seeing as how Rose probably wouldn't take too kindly to anyone who said something of that sort about her baby brother. She's sort of protective over him, see. So I just never made much comment at all. It wasn't as if I was ever around him too much anyway (which, admittedly, may be why I was so quick to label him a demon), so I just kept my opinion to myself. I wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms to Rose's home too often until recently anyway. I was never turned away or anything, but I didn't really spend an abundance of time there or around any of her family.

But now that I've got to know Landon, I think he may actually be just as fantastic as Rose always claimed that he was. He's smart, of course, brilliant really. He knows quite a bit more than a lot of adults do, so I don't think that particularly helps in the whole liking him bit. But underneath his overabundance of intelligence, he's really just a normal seven year old. He eats too many sweets, hates being told to go to bed, and is absolutely mad over Quidditch.

I guess it's lucky that I have so many ins in the Quidditch world because it really does help in getting a kid to like you. As it is, Landon seems to think I'm the best thing that's ever happened in his life. It doesn't exactly feel _nice _to be used for Quidditch connections, especially by a seven year old, but it's not too bad, I suppose. Rose appreciates it. And I'd do anything for Rose.

It's been just about a month since she went back to Ireland. She still hates it as much as ever, I think, but she knows that it's got to be done if she wants to go on and be a Healer. Things are weird for her, though, I think. She says people are treating her very oddly and that even the people who were halfway normal to her before are being overly-cautious with her. She just wants to be normal, of course. I mean, it's hard enough as it is with her mum being who she is, but adding in all the events that have happened recently, and it's not surprising that people can't act normal around her. I feel sorry for her truthfully, but what is there that I can do? Nothing really. So I just keep telling her to stick it out and that it'll all be over soon enough. Maybe eventually she'll listen and stop being so uneasy.

In the meantime, there's Landon.

He's bored and lonely and, consequently, wants to spend a lot of time with me. I don't mind. He isn't much of a bother. Feed him, and he's pretty much good to go. It's not like he causes a lot of problems or is a ton of trouble. And I think he's got a horribly shit deal at the moment, so if I can make a little bit better, I don't see why I shouldn't. Not to mention, of course, that it also helps his mother out quite a bit. She's pretty much as overwhelmed as it's possible to be at the moment, and I want to do what I can for her.

At the moment, he's waiting in the stands as I get dressed with the rest of my team and listen to Call tell us that we're all a bunch of useless idiots. I guess it doesn't matter that we finished the season undefeated and in first place. He's still got to taunt us until we win the championship, I suppose. I only half-listen as I finish gathering up the rest of my things. I'm not the only one- it doesn't seem as if anyone is too interested in what he's got to say. We've been here forever, and everyone is pretty much ready to go home.

Landon's actually laid out on the bench asleep by the time I get up to the stands. One of my teammate's girlfriends, Hailey (I think?), is sitting behind him and smiles at me when I show up. Loads of the girls around here are mad about him and keep watch on him during the training sessions.

"He was knackered, yeah?" she says, glancing down at him.

I nod and reach down to shake him a little bit. He stirs and nearly falls right off the bench. I catch him by his sleeve just in time, which wakes him up. He looks up at me with sleepy blue eyes, and he seems as perfectly seven as it's possible to be.

"Are you finished?" he asks, his voice heavy with tiredness.

"Yeah, come on." I pull him up to a standing position. "Let's go home."

Landon grumbles something but stands up nonetheless. He rubs at his eyes and yawns. Hailey laughs from behind him.

"Bye, Landon," she says, and he glances around to raise a hand in a half-wave.

He wakes up by the time we get back down to the main grate. We have to take the Floo back to the house because he gets terribly sick during side-along Apparition. We tried it once because he assured me he'd be fine (I definitely should have listened to Rose on that one), and he ended up vomiting all over my front step. Since then, I've learned to not trust everything he says because he seems to have a lot more confidence in his stomach than it deserves.

Floo, though, is quick, safe, and relatively painless.

"I'm hungry."

Landon makes the announcement the second we get back to the house, and he takes it upon himself to go straight to the kitchen and climb onto the counter to start rummaging through the cupboards. He's still rather small for his age, so it's amusing that even standing on top of the counter, he still has trouble reaching the top shelves. Not that I have much room to talk. I spent my entire childhood a couple of inches shorter than normal, and I didn't exactly grow up to be the tallest man in the world. So I take pity on him and help him reach the bread. I also tell him to be careful as a horrible vision enters my head that involves him falling from the counter and landing flatly on the floor. I'm fairly certain that wouldn't win me any points with his sister.

"What do you want to eat?" I ask, handing him the loaf and grabbing him round the waist to lift him off the counter and place him back on the floor.

"Something good," he says, staring at the bread in his hand. "Not a sandwich."

I roll my eyes and take the loaf to place it back in the cupboard. Landon goes to sit at the table, and I manage to scramble together a meal of heated up leftover Italian take-away from two nights ago. He doesn't seem to mind that it's leftovers, and he digs in straight away. Meanwhile, I try to clean up the mess from breakfast that's still all over the counter. It's times like these that I really _do _miss my house-elf… not that I think I should say this out loud, I'm pretty sure that won't win me any points, either.

"Can I stay here tonight?"

Landon's question comes through a mouthful of food, and he doesn't even seem the least bit concerned that he's got possibly the worst table manners in the history of the world. Apparently, he hasn't quite reached the age where he fully realizes that he's part of a very important family, and, as such, needs to display proper etiquette. Apparently, he's still at the age where he doesn't care about anything except filling his belly and saying whatever pops into his head.

"I dunno," I say, flicking my wand at the pile of dishes in the sink and setting them to wash. "Did you ask your mum?"

I don't even have to look over at him to know the look on his face. He looks at the table ruefully and rolls his eyes. "I'm pretty sure I haven't seen her in a week."

"You saw her this morning," I say, rolling my own eyes and putting a halt to his dramatics. "She was there when I picked you up."

Landon, though, doesn't seem put out by the fact that he's just been proved wrong. He just shrugs disinterestedly. "Maybe for like one minute I saw her."

He's so over-the-top. I swear, he's got to be Rose made over. I didn't know her at that age, but I can just imagine that she acted exactly like he does. Possibly even worse because she was apparently also a trouble-maker. Landon doesn't really have a lot of people his own age around, so he doesn't get into too much trouble. He's just a drama queen. It makes me scared for my own future children…

"You see your mum every day," I say pointedly, not falling for it.

"She is always busy." He shovels several more forkfuls of food into his mouth and then takes a large gulp from the glass of juice I sit in front of him. "She probably won't even notice if I don't go home."

So that's what it is.

I sigh a little bit and fall into a chair across the table. I don't realize how exhausted I am until I sit down. That training session was really rough, especially considering the temperature gets warmer every single day. It's bloody hot outside, and Quidditch in the blazing sun is slightly less than enjoyable.

"Landon, you know your mum is busy. She can't help it."

He shrugs and avoids my eyes. Instead, he keeps shoveling food into his mouth wordlessly and frowning like someone stomped on his kitten or something.

I don't know who to feel worse for- Landon or his mother. Hearing these sort of complaints from Landon are eerily familiar. When I first started getting to know Rose, she used to talk incessantly about how her parents were too busy for them and how they were never around and always off working. She doesn't say that anymore. She grew up and realized that her parents always _were _there, they just had more responsibilities than a lot of other normal parents did. Their jobs kept them busy, but they didn't ever ignore their children _or _their children's problems. Rose was just the type of kid who felt the need to lay blame on people, and Landon is remarkably like her. It's not necessarily something he can control. He just hasn't got to the age where he can understand it yet.

Still, though, it must make his mother feel like shit.

I don't know how she's doing it. I don't know how she's managing to keep everything together and go on every single day because I know she feels like her whole life is falling apart. I can't imagine what it feels like, but I'm sure it isn't a pleasant feeling. But she's doing an amazingly good job of balancing everything. I'm sure most people would be so overwhelmed that they'd resign immediately, but she seems to recognize that the Ministry still needs her. She's handling work and still trying to keep things together at home. I know it's rough, though, because she has to send Landon off to various babysitters more often than not, and I'm sure she doesn't want to do that.

And, of course, that's the only thing Landon sees. He doesn't see that his mother holds the highest-ranking position in the entire country. He doesn't see that she's got loads and loads of responsibilities that can't just be pushed off on someone else. He just sees that she isn't always there to tuck him in or make him lunch. And that's got to be rough, too.

"Look, mate," I say, eyeing him seriously to a point where he has no choice but to look up and meet my gaze. "She's trying really hard to make it work, okay? Just give her a break."

He sort of glares at the air in front of him, and his lips purse just a bit. "I don't ever see her."

"Yeah, you do-"

"I see my grandparents more than I see her," he says defiantly, and he looks at me in a way that dares me to contradict him. I don't, of course, because he's telling the truth. I know that his grandparents' have taken over most of his day to day activity.

"My mum works _all _the time," he says lowly. A beat or two passes, and then he mutters, "And my dad's not coming back…"

I don't know what to say to that. The quietness of the kitchen seems to scream loudly, and we just look at each other for a long moment. There's something in his eyes that seems to be asking me to prove him wrong. It's a bit of a desperate look, but I don't know what to do with it. I can't lie to him, so I just shake my head a little bit.

His glare turns to a full-blown frown.

He drops the eye contact and seems to have fully abandoned his food. His eyes wander around the wall behind me for a few seconds until he finally says, "I don't think that's fair."

"It's not," I agree. "It's shit."

I realize, of course, that I probably shouldn't be swearing to a seven year old, but Landon doesn't seem to notice. He just continues to let his eyes wander aimlessly, and he looks sadder with every passing second. It's really awful actually.

"I don't know why he died," he mutters.

"Me, either."

"It's not fair," he says again, and he finally meets my eyes again. "And Rose is gone now. And Hugo's gone. And I don't ever get to see my mum." He says all of this very quickly and then breaks for a second. "And I really miss my dad."

I don't know what to say to any of that. It's possibly the saddest thing I've ever heard in my life, and I really wish none of it was true. I don't think it's fair, either, and I feel horrible for him as he once again breaks eye contact and this time looks down at the table in front of him.

Still, though, I do the only thing I can and try to get him to cut his mother a break.

"Your mum really misses him, too…"

Landon doesn't say anything right away. He keeps his eyes trained on the table, and I get the feeling that he's been bottling a lot of this up inside since his dad died. I don't know that I'm necessarily the person who needs to be dealing with it, but I'm here. And he hasn't, as far as I know, said any of this to anyone else. Maybe he's just really starting to trust me.

It seems like ten years pass before he finally lifts his eyes. "She's really sad," he says quietly. "And she cries a lot."

I don't immediately respond to that. I don't know what to say really, considering the fact that I haven't actually seen her cry since the first days following the funeral. If she's crying, she's doing a good job of keeping it secret.

And apparently that's the case.

"She hides when she cries," Landon goes on, answering my unasked question. "She doesn't think I can hear, but sometimes I do."

He looks sad and shy and scared all at one time. I still don't know what to say to any of it. I know I should say _something _because obviously he's bringing up these things for the first time. But what am I supposed to do?

"It's hard for her," I say, wanting to put something out there. It's not what Landon wants to hear, though, because he just stares at me with those big, expectant eyes, and I stumble around to make a bit more sense out of it. "She's really trying," I say honestly, knowing it's the truth. "She doesn't want to be so busy."

"Do you think," Landon says slowly, "that if my dad came back… that Mum would be happy again? And maybe she'd stop crying?"

I have no idea what to say to that. Landon is speaking slowly and forcefully, and I know he's probably terrified to vocalize the question. It really _is _the saddest thing I've ever heard in my entire life.

"Landon," I tell him, taking a deep breath and trying to be as gentle as possible, "your dad can't come back."

"But if he _could," _he says, and his voice is a bit firmer now. He looks up stiffly and seems resigned to ask this question, and I get the feeling that he's been planning this out and thinking about it for weeks now. "Like in this story I used to read when I was little… There's this stone, and it can bring people back. People who've died."

I just stare at him. He's talking about that old kid's story about those three brothers. It's horrible.

"Landon, that's a story." I try not to sound harsh, but it's almost scary how serious he looks. "It's just make-believe. There's no stone that can bring people back from the dead."

"But you don't _know _that. There could be."

"Nothing brings people back from the dead," I say evenly. "And even if there _was _a way, those people in that story weren't happy, were they?"

He frowns and looks away again. I know I've got him there. I can tell that that was already the flaw in his plan. The whole point of that story was to show that avoiding death only brought misery. It still doesn't make it any less sad.

"I just want everything to be normal again," he says quietly.

"They'll get there eventually," I promise. "But right now, things are just weird. So just give your mum a break, okay? Because she's really trying."

"I wish you and Rose would come home." He sighs loudly and drops his chin onto the table, chewing on his lip listlessly.

"Hugo'll be back in a few weeks."

He nods but says nothing.

I don't know what else to do or say at the moment, so I gather up his dishes and send them to the sink where the others are finished washing. Landon just sits at the table and says nothing. His feet swing aimlessly back and forth under his chair.

"You want to stay here?" I ask finally, and he sits up almost immediately and nods. "Okay. I'll check with your mum."

"Don't tell her what I said," he says right away, and I can tell he's scared now that he's put out all his secrets.

"I won't," I promise. "Just try not to be so upset with her, okay?"

Landon nods hesitantly, and I can tell that it's going to be easier said than done. Still, though, I'm fairly certain that he's going to be a bit better off now that he's managed to get some of that off his chest. If it helps him at all, it'll be worth it. I just don't want him to end up feeling the same sort of resentment that Rose struggled with for so long. It was hard for her to get over that, and watching Hugo, it's not difficult to see how easily he could fall into the same path of resentment.

And I'm pretty sure it would end up being even worse than Rose's.

And they all need each other more than ever.

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A/N: I know this was the longest delay ever! Sorry, I was just blocked and couldn't get it out. I'm also aware that a lot of people probably expected Rose/Scorpius since this is his last chapter, but don't worry because he'll show up in hers. Next up is Al (although I'm sick to death of him, so I can't promise too much… But after that, James and Rose!). In other news, Half-Blood Prince! I, personally, loved it!


	59. Al, June 20th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 59

**AL**

**June 20****th**

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It's quite weird, really, to think about my parents being divorced.

I thought about it before, I guess, back at Hogwarts when they nearly went down this road the first time. I guess I thought about a lot then. But then things got better- or at least I _thought _they were better. So hearing it like this just sort of feels straight out of the blue.

I've had a few weeks to come to terms with it and process it, but it just still feels weird. It's strange, really, because it's not even as if I care too awfully much. I mean, obviously I care a _little _bit, as they _are _my parents. But it's not like I'm devastated. If anything, it's actually sort of a relief. I don't know how many more times I can take them being perfectly fine and then suddenly splitting up. I don't think they're happy. I don't know really if they ever were. I suppose they were, I guess, maybe when we were kids. But for the last several years, they've just been comfortable and cordial with each other, not really what I would call _in love._

Not that I know anything about being in love, of course.

Apparently I'm quite shit at all things having to do with relationships and love. I suppose it's one more thing I can blame on my parents, as they obviously haven't done a good job of setting an example. At least not one that I care to follow.

Elisabeth dumped me.

Technically, I don't know if you can actually _be _dumped if you've never put an official title on your relationship. Still, though, I considered her to be my girlfriend, and I think she thought of me as her boyfriend. We were pretty much exclusive for awhile, even when it was all supposed to be a big secret. But three weeks ago, she showed up at my flat one morning as she was getting off her shift and called it quits.

I was surprised to see her that day actually. I hadn't really been expecting her, and even though she always gets off at the same time each morning, we usually don't see each other until much later in the afternoon. I was just getting up and getting ready for the day when she showed up unexpectedly.

I was happy to see her actually. I guess because I'm usually always happy to see her. She looked exhausted, but she smiled when she showed up nonetheless. And we sat down together for a breakfast of eggs and toast. It started out normal enough. We just talked about usual everyday things. She told me a story about one of the other Aurors who was in our class at the academy and how she fell asleep during her shift and was just a step away from being sacked.

It was all very normal.

And then she stopped talking and set her fork down. She looked uncomfortable, and I remember wondering what was going on. I could tell something was wrong, but I didn't expect what she said next.

"I don't want to do this anymore."

She said it just like that. As bluntly as possible. Out of nowhere.

And I just stared at her.

Elisabeth has always been one of the most beautiful girls I've known. When we were just kids, she was probably the prettiest in the class. Or at least _one _of the prettiest. When we grew up, she was still beautiful. And she still is. And I remember exactly the way she looked when she said that- as pretty as she always did but with an overlay of something else altogether.

"It's…" Her voice trailed off as she clearly tried to form the right words in her head. "I don't think we should see each other."

I just kept staring at her. I mean, what exactly was I supposed to say to that? I guess looking back, there were a hundred different things I could have said, but I didn't have time to process any of them or think any of them up at the time. Or maybe my brain just wouldn't function. I don't know. Regardless, I stared at her unblinkingly, and I suppose she felt the need to offer some sort of explanation.

"I really do like you," she said quietly, and I could tell then by the look in her eyes that she was nervous and uncomfortable. "But there's just… There's just too much."

"Too much what?" It was the only thing I could say, though I suppose it was a valid question. After all, she was being extremely cryptic with her explanation.

"You've got too much baggage."

Wow.

Even thinking back on it, it still sounds just as harsh as it did in the moment. I was stunned, of course. It was coming from nowhere, and all I could do was stare at her in shock. She felt bad, I think, that she came out and said it like that. So she tried to cover it up and sugarcoat it a little bit.

"It's not your fault," she said quickly. "I just think… I'm not sure you're ready for a relationship right now."

A relationship.

It's funny that she even called it that, considering the fact that right up until that point, I wasn't even sure that's what we were. Maybe she wasn't, either. Maybe it was just an excuse for her to dump me and try to make it less harsh than it actually was.

So because I didn't know what the hell she was on about, I had to ask, "What _baggage _exactly?"

And then she gave me that pitying smile that people give when they have to fight against being condescending. She actually looked like she felt _sorry _for me, and I can't even begin to tell you how maddening that was.

"Just with everything that's happened," she said, and her voice trailed slightly. "With your uncle. And your parents… I just think you've got a lot going on right now. I don't know if you need another distraction…"

So that was it.

She dumped me because I'm fucking mentally incompetent thanks to the fact that my parents' have fucked me up royally. And oh, yeah, the fact that I got my own uncle killed. In other words, I'm mental, and she doesn't want to deal with it. That's what it really comes down to- she was just too nice to phrase it that way. And that's it. She was gone after that, and I haven't seen her since.

And unfortunately, that's pretty much just the icing on the cake of just how _shit _my life really is at the moment.

I was dumped by my girlfriend. My parents are barely speaking to me. I haven't got any friends. I'm jobless. And I can't sleep for more than a fucking hour at a time because every time I actually fall asleep, I have the same nightmare. Green light and a falling body. And it's so _real- _probably because I actually witnessed it, and I haven't been able to think of anything else since. It's all I can see. And I dream about it every time I go to sleep.

And I hate it.

It's even worse because I know Rose and Hugo and even Landon… They all know what happened, and none of them are ever going to look at me the same way again. And it sucks because I miss Rose more than ever right now. I think it's probably because I've just fully realized that it's really over. We don't even know each other anymore really, and I just wish it wasn't like that. She was my best friend my whole life, and now I need her to be there more than ever… but I don't really have the right to ask that of her. I guess I don't have the right to ask anything of any of them.

Which makes me trip down the lift in the Ministry of Magic even more unusual than it would be otherwise.

I haven't been here since the day I resigned from the Auror department. In fact, I really thought that would probably be the last time I'd ever set foot in the place for the whole rest of my life. But the weeks that have passed recently have given me a lot of time to think about things. And that's why I'm here. Because if I can't fix things with my parents and I can't fix things with Elisabeth and I can't fix things with Rose… I can at least try and fix things with one person.

Aunt Hermione's office is on the very bottom floor at the very end of a fairly long corridor. I haven't been down here _too _many times, but I've been by enough times to find it easily. It seems like I walk forever, though, probably because I'm scared to death to even see her, much less try to explain myself. She can be a very intimidating person, and I won't lie and say that there haven't been times in my life when I've been absolutely terrified of her. She was always the strictest person in my entire family, and she never cut anyone any slack when they were in her house- the rules that were good for her kids were good for everyone else, and so were the consequences. So I learned pretty quickly to behave around her. Rose, for some ungodly reason, took a lot longer to learn that lesson.

But now Rose apparently thinks her mum is the greatest person to ever walk the planet. It's funny how that happened… I grew up thinking my own mother was cool and never really had too many dramatic angst issues with either of my parents. Rose grew up thinking that her parents' entire reason for existence was to simply make her life as miserable as possible. And now look where we are. It's crazy.

There are three Aurors, two assistants, and one reporter waiting in the area outside the office. I'm not sure what the reporter is doing there, but I assume he's trying to sweet-talk his way in to get an exclusive interview of some sort. Everyone else seems to be ignoring him, though they all look up at me. The Aurors are all much older and higher ranking than me, and if it weren't for the fact that my dad is who he is, I'm sure none of them would even recognize the fact that I was once a member of their department. As it is, though, they all recognize me, and they all look on at me curiously with faces that only leave me to imagine what must be going through their heads. I'm quite sure I'm the topic of the biggest scandal the department's seen in years, but I just ignore them. The assistants, too, know who I am just by looking at me. It's one of the rather annoying things about looking just like my dad.

"Can I go in?" I ask one of them, nodding at the closed door. "She's my aunt." I say this needlessly, as I'm already well-aware that everyone in the vicinity bloody well _knows _that she's my aunt. The assistants glance at each other and then over at the Aurors who are all doing a smashing job of avoiding my eye contact.

Finally one of them deems to answer me. "I'll go see if she's available."

This is all well and ridiculous. I don't know why I decided to come find her at work instead of just waiting until she was home. I guess because I don't particularly feel welcome in her home at the moment. It's not that I think she'd make me feel _un_welcome, but I just think it might be uncomfortable. Being out in public feels much easier.

The assistant disappears into the office and stays gone for what seems like far too long to ask a simple question like whether or not I can enter. Finally, though, she comes back out and looks over at me. "She said you can go in," she answers briskly, and her eyes flitter over to the reporter who is apparently not keen on being repeatedly denied entrance. I don't care about the reporter, though, and I don't thank the assistants or the Aurors for helping me gain access. Instead, I just push past them and through the heavy double oak doors to the Minister of Magic's office.

It's huge really. It's probably three times the size of my dad's, and his certainly isn't _small. _It's even bigger than the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, though not quite as fancily adorned. It _looks _important, though. The second you step into it, you just _feel _intimidated.

My aunt, though, looks anything but intimidating.

"Hi!" she says brightly, plastering on the same gigantic fake smile that she's been forcing herself to wear for the better part of three months now. Everyone knows it's fake, but no one calls her on it. Who would?

"Hey," I say, and my voice sounds infinitely less excited than hers. Still, I try to muster up my own fake smile as I make my way into the office and pretend not to notice that she's got piles and piles of paperwork on her desk. I'm obviously interrupting her, but she isn't going to say anything.

"I didn't expect you by here." She keeps that smile on her face, and it's a little disturbing how it doesn't even come close to reaching her eyes.

"Yeah," I say, suddenly aware of the nervousness that's threatening me. I'm not sure where it's coming from, but it's there and hard to hide. "I just… I just haven't seen you in awhile," I finish lamely, shrugging nonchalantly.

It sounds stupid, of course, because it's not as if I've ever made a habit of visiting my aunts and uncles at work. She doesn't buy it, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she just conjures up a couple of drinks and offers me one. I take it gratefully, happy to have something to wet my throat, which feels dry just thinking about the conversation I came here to have.

Hell, I don't even know if I should bring it up. Part me is screaming to just talk about the weather or Grandmum's upcoming birthday or something completely stupid like that. Another part of me, though, says that I came here for a reason, so I might as well do what I came to do.

It doesn't make it any easier.

"Does Rose like school?" I ask, chickening out at the last subject and talking about something completely different. If nothing else, it'll allow me a nice segue into the conversation. Maybe even rally up a bit of sympathy for me.

Aunt Hermione sips her own drink and then pushes herself into a sitting position on the edge of her desk. I sit down in one of her chairs just to escape the oddity of standing awkwardly. "She doesn't _love _it," she says slowly. "But she's doing alright."

"I haven't talked to her."

I say this and look up to see what reaction she has. Surely she isn't surprised at the lack of communication. I'm quite sure she knows that Rose is having a less than easy time dealing with the news that her dad jumped in front of a killing curse to save me. She manages _not _to say anything that would prove that she was fully supporting her daughter in hate of me.

"I think she's really busy," she says breezily. "She's got a lot of catching up to do before her end of term exams."

I nod and look down at the impossibly gleaming stone floor. I don't know exactly what to say, so I hesitate a few seconds and then finally sigh a little.

"I'm really sorry."

I say it quickly without looking up. I can feel my aunt's eyes on me, and I'm sure she's wondering what the hell I'm on about. It's too uncomfortable to even think about looking up and meeting her gaze, though, so I keep my eyes fixed on the floor and wait for her to say something.

She poses a question instead of a response. "Sorry for what?" She sounds genuinely confused, though I'm not positive how much of it is legitimate and how much of it is simply for my benefit. Maybe she thinks that if she doesn't appear to automatically know what I'm apologizing for that it'll make things easier for me. It won't.

"For everything," I say, still not trusting myself to actually look up and make eye contact with her. "I just… It's all my fault, but I didn't mean for any of it to happen."

I don't have to say it. She knows what I'm referring to, and I think we're both better off if I avoid actually vocalizing the reminder of the death. It's the first time I've apologized to her, as I've honestly been too nervous to be around her anymore than absolutely necessary. I kind of feel sick to my stomach every time I see her actually.

There's silence for awhile, and then finally I hear her shifting positions from her seat on the desk. "Al," she says slowly, quietly, too, and I'm sure that the fake smile has now disappeared completely. "It wasn't your fault."

It's not the first time I've heard it. Any time I've dared to admit it out loud, someone has been there to tell me that it wasn't my fault. It doesn't make it any easier or any more believable. It doesn't make the image in my head of the wand pointed at my face and the green light aimed at _me _disappear. It's all still there.

"But it was meant for me," I say, slowing my own voice slightly and looking back up. "It was supposed to hit _me." _

There's a strange look on her face. For a second, I can even fool myself into believing that part of her look says that she wishes it _had _hit me. But she doesn't say that, and when I look again, it's no longer there. Instead, she's just still got that same sort of quiet sadness on her face.

"It _didn't _hit you," she finally says, and her voice sounds a bit steely. "He wouldn't let you get hurt."

"But it doesn't change anything," I say right back. "It was still my fault because he never would have even been in the room if it weren't for me!"

"Blaming yourself isn't going to change anything, either," she says, and her voice manages to stay calm. "He died to save you. And you're safe. It wasn't your fault."

It's almost frustrating to hear that sort of thing. It's like no one comprehends the fact that I can't forget about it for even a second. I don't even realize my eyes go wet until I feel a tear get caught at the edge of my glasses. I feel like an idiot, of course, and a complete prat for sitting there crying like a five year old. And I'm not even sure I know exactly what's causing the tears- it's probably a mix of everything. It makes me feel like such a child.

"Why did you quit, Al?"

She asks the question out of nowhere, and I look over at her, feeling even more like a kid than I did just seconds ago. She's staring at me curiously, though there's nothing on her face that hints at anything aggressive. She's giving me a completely different sort of look than my dad did when he asked me the same question.

So maybe that's why it's a lot easier to answer her.

"I'm not good at it."

She says nothing, just stares at me for a little while and blinks every so often. Then she crosses her legs and leans back a little, taking a deep breath. "Hugo wants to join."

That's news to me. It's the first time I've heard it. It's sort of surprising really because I don't really remember ever hearing anything that would hint at Hugo wanting to be an Auror. Then again, I don't think I've ever heard Hugo say anything about his career plans.

"Did he apply already?"

Aunt Hermione nods. She's got another sort of strange look on her face. "I don't think I want him to."

It hits me then that the strange look is really just worry. She's scared.

"Hugo would be good," I tell her.

"Really?"

I nod, thinking about it. "I think Hugo's a lot stronger than people give him credit for…"

She nods, too, slowly, and a sad sort of smile goes across her face. "I just worry about him. That's all. I know he could do it."

"He'll do better than I did."

She shakes her head now a little bit. "Al, I don't think you should do it if you don't want to do it. But I also don't think you should quit just because you feel responsible for something you had no control over."

It's exactly what my dad said, but in a much nicer form. But I just shake my own head, having already thought about it and thought about it again. "I don't want to do it," I say honestly. "I don't know what I want to do, but that's not it. But Hugo will be fine."

"I know he will be," she says, and that same sad smile is still there. Then she tries to put the fake one back on and make an attempt at humor. "I just have to worry because that's what old women do."

I roll my eyes and stand up. She smiles again and stands, too. "Thank you," I say. "For everything."

She hugs me, and I wonder if her kids know how lucky they are. And speaking of her kids…

"Will you tell Rose I'm sorry?"

Aunt Hermione pulls back a little bit and holds me at arm's length. "First of all, _stop _apologizing. You don't have anything to be sorry for. And second of all, I promise you Rose will come around. Just give her some time, okay?"

I try not to frown too obviously, and I nod. I don't know how right she is, but I guess there's nothing else I can do.

I guess I won't worry about what's going to happen. I'll just focus on the right now. I have a lot to figure out, but maybe I'll manage.

It's all I can do.

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A/N: And there's Al! Bye-bye. James is next!


	60. James, June 24th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 60

**JAMES**

**June 24****th**

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My dad's new flat is not too far from my own. It's just a couple of streets up actually, and not more than a twenty minute walk on foot. It's sort of strange because I'm not used to having him this close. When he temporarily moved to London before, I didn't even see him because I was still at Hogwarts. And by the time I was done with school, the hastily acquired flat was empty and ready for me to move into. Now, of course, Al lives there, so it wasn't exactly open for my dad to move back into. I mean, I guess he could have kicked Al out if he really wanted, but maybe he's not that much of a bastard.

Dad is actually trying to make somewhat of an effort, or at least that's how it seems. I'm not sure how receptive Al's being to it, and I can guarantee that Lily will run off somewhere the second she backs home. But I'm trying to take it for what it is and make something a bit better out of it. Now, honestly, I don't really care enough to think that up on my own, but Kate has been after me for weeks to work things out. Forgiveness, she claims, is the key to happiness. Maybe she's right, I dunno. After all, if didn't forgive me for being a complete dickhead so many times, I doubt either of us would be as happy as we are right now. Plus, she's a lot smarter than me, so she probably knows what she's talking about.

She's been gone for just a little over a week now, and trust me, it's _not _fun. It's weird, since it's not like we've been married for years or anything, and just months ago, I was living alone and was perfectly content. But now it's just _lonely. _And rather depressing. It's like I wake up, go to Quidditch, come home, do nothing. It's all very boring. I used to never be bored. If there was nothing to do at home, I could always find a party. But I don't even _want _to do all that anymore. And I really miss her, too, and not just because she lets me shag her at least three times a day (and sometimes more). But I miss her because she's just _everything_. But she writes all the time, every day, and she's having loads of fun and is loving every second of her training. I can tell by the letters that she's happy and excited and all the things I hoped she was going to be. And it's only for six months.

Six months is a long fucking time.

But in the meantime, I'm trying to take some of her advice and make amends. It helps that my dad needs a lot of help getting settled into the new flat because it gives me an excuse to be over there without going all super sentimental lame. Honestly, he could do things a lot easier if he was using magic, but he seems to be doing everything the Muggle way. I think part of this may be because it's somewhat therapeutic for him (he has a tendency to do things that way when he needs some time to think or something). Another part of it may be to get me to come over and help. We both know he doesn't _really _need my help, but neither of us point this out.

His new place is pretty nice. It's a bit smaller than mine, but the building is just as high-end. It's one of those completely renovated old buildings that are popping up everywhere, and if I were actively looking for a new place (which I'm supposed to be but really am not…), I'd look into their spaces. As it is, though, my father now lives there, so I don't exactly want him right next door. I prefer a few streets in between. That's close enough for my fancy.

We've been working on setting up the kitchen for about three days now. Now, you're probably wondering why setting up a kitchen would _take _three days, even the Muggle way. Well, the answer to that is simple. We're both shit at it and have no idea what we're doing. I don't even know what half the shit is supposed to do, and Dad doesn't, either. So all the boxes that are supposed to be "kitchenware" are really just getting unpacked and set up in various spots around the room. I have a feeling Aunt Hermione's going to come in when we're finished and throw half of it away and set the other half right. In fact, I'm pretty sure dad's counting on it, so that's why he doesn't seem too fussed about figuring it out. I think he's pretty dependent on her for a lot of things like that- it probably stems from all those years in school when he could muck up his homework without worrying because he knew she would look it over and correct it. She's _definitely _a lot smarter than he is.

"This looks like something from a torture chamber." I pull a heavy silver item out of the box and hold it up. It's got a sharp blade on it and looks like it's supposed to be squeezed over something.

"I think it's a can opener. Or a bottle opener or something." Dad reaches for it and turns it over in his hand before setting it beside the blender. "I might need it one day."

I can't imagine that the day will ever come when Dad needs to open a can or a bottle so badly that a simple wave of the wand couldn't manage it. He can't, either, but we both entertain the notion and go back to unpacking. The counters are getting fuller and fuller, and it occurs to me that there's absolutely nothing in the cupboards or the fridge. The kitchen has a million appliances and no food. Brilliant.

"How's Kate doing?" he asks, bending under the sink to rummage around for something.

"Better than me, I'm sure," I say lazily, leaning against the counter and stifling a yawn.

"Why? What's wrong with you?"

I shrug one shoulder. "I'm bored."

"Well, there's plenty for you to do here," he says, standing up and pushing his glasses up his nose. "And I'm sure Kate's struggling enough with her training. It's not like she's on holiday."

I wish she were on holiday. I wish we both were. Images of Greece and the pure ecstasy that came along with it float into my head uninvited, and I have to focus all of my attention on the box I'm unpacking to keep from having a very visible reaction to the images. God, that girl is amazing…

"You know," Dad says, either not noticing my sudden zoning or choosing not to comment, "I did find something I wanted to give to you while I was going through my things."

That's slightly surprising. It's not like it's my birthday or something, and Dad doesn't usually make a habit of randomly showering me with gifts. I just raise an eyebrow, but I go with him when he motions for me to follow. His bedroom's at the very back of the flat, and when we get to it, I can't help noticing that it needs far more help than the over-applianced kitchen does. His bedroom just looks downright _sad. _It's nearly completely bare, save the wardrobe and the bed. There's no decoration to it at all. It looks like something out of a psychiatric hospital or something.

Dad, though, doesn't seem to notice any of this, as he goes straight over to the wardrobe and opens it. He reaches back through a couple of layers of clothing and then finally pulls out what appears to be a blanket of some sort. He looks at it for a few seconds and then turns around to hand it to me.

"A blanket?" I ask, totally confused. "Um, thanks?"

Dad actually rolls his eyes at this, which is slightly amusing, as he's not really an eye-rolling sort of person. "It's not a blanket," he says briskly, and he takes it from me again to shake it out. "It's a cloak."

I look at it for several long seconds before the realization dawns on me. "Is this…" I reach for it again and watch breathlessly as my arm disappears into thin air beneath it. I look back up at Dad, and I'm sure my eyes are the widest they've ever been. "You told me this didn't exist."

He did tell me as much. When I was just a kid and flat-out asked for it. He told me that he didn't own an Invisibility Cloak and that the ones sold in shops were just cheaply made cloaks with sloppy charms attached to them. Of course, I knew he was lying, as Uncle Ron told me a very different story when I asked _him. _Still, I could never prove anything because as much as I searched, the Invisibility Cloak must have been, well, invisible. I looked everywhere for it but never found it anywhere.

But here it is.

I hold it out at arm's length and watch mesmerized as my hand disappears and reappears as I drape it and remove it several times. Dad watches and seems somewhat amused.

"You didn't need it then," he says by way of explanation. "This cloak for you at Hogwarts would simply have been an even easier excuse for you to get into trouble. I don't think you needed any help in that respect."

This is true. I was always a little prone to sneaking about, so I can't imagine what all I would have done knowing I had an Invisibility Cloak in my possession.

"You didn't give it to Al or Lily, either," I point out, finally looking up from the disappearing act of my hand.

Dad, though, simply shakes his head. "It's not theirs."

I stare at him wordlessly for a little while and then look back down at the cloak. It's beautiful really. It's expertly adorned and seems to be stitched together by hand. Not only that, it doesn't look as if it's ever even been used before. It looks brand new and like something straight out of a really upscale shop.

"It's always been yours," he goes on. "I just had to wait for the right time. I didn't think you needed it at Hogwarts, and I really hope you never _need _it. I hope that when you use it, you can simply use it for fun and not because you've got an actual _need _to hide from anyone or anything."

"You needed it when you were a kid then," I guess, looking back up.

He nods. "More times than I care to remember actually. But that cloak saved my life on numerous occasions. I was very lucky to have it."

"Where'd you get it?" I try to remember what Dad's told me about his childhood, and I can't imagine the Muggles that he lived with were ever too keen on dropping into Diagon Alley. And it's not as if this sort of thing is found at Harrods.

"It was my dad's." I'm confused, and I guess that shows on my face because he goes on. "Professor Dumbledore gave it to me when I started Hogwarts. It belonged to my dad, but it's been passed down from generation to generation for hundreds of years really."

"_Hundreds _of years?" I raise my eyebrows skeptically. "It looks brand new."

Dad nods and sort of shrugs a shoulder. "I know."

"I thought the charms on these things wore off eventually?" Charms on everything wear off eventually. I don't know how _anything _could last for _hundreds _of years.

Dad hesitates for a second, and it almost seems as if he's trying to decide whether he wants to reveal something. Finally, he finishes whatever it is he has in his head. "That cloak isn't like other Invisibility Cloaks. It's the only one of its kind."

"How so?"

"This isn't just a charmed piece of fabric," he says. "It's truly invincible. There's no way for it to ever lose its magic or its perfection."

"So this has been in our family for _hundreds _of years? And my grandfather had it last, left it to you, and now you're giving it to _me?" _I say all of this very slowly just to make sure that I'm understanding everything completely.

Dad nods. "And then someday, you can pass it on to _your _oldest."

"When he goes to Hogwarts," I say smirking. "Girls will love this."

"And what if he _is _a girl?" Dad looks at me curiously, but I just shake my head dismissively, refusing to entertain the notion.

"That'll never happen."

Dad looks slightly entertained but doesn't comment further. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair and leans back against the wall a little. "Well, while we're sharing," he transitions smoothly, "do you want to tell me why the Marauder's Map disappeared from desk about ten years ago?"

I try not to smile right away, but I fail and give myself away immediately. Then I shrug. "Fine. I took it."

"Oh, really?" He doesn't seem surprised in the least.

"But in my defense," I add quickly, "Teddy is the one who told me about it _and _where to find it. So you should really blame him."

"I'll keep that in mind." He clearly has no interest in how I came to know about the map or where I found it. "I take it you never shared it with your brother and sister?"

I roll my eyes. "Those prats. Definitely not."

"Well, I can't imagine you need it anymore. You should give it to the next generation of Marauder descendants?"

I smirk. "My kid's going to be awesome. He'll have _both."_

"Actually," Dad says, cutting in, "I think you should return it to Teddy. I have a feeling Dora's going to need all the help she can get in avoiding expulsion."

I laugh, realizing he's right. Then I try to imagine Dora at school. She's going to give hell to everyone, that's for sure. It'll actually be rather funny. I hope Neville's still there to have her because I can just imagine him trying to keep up with her. She's pretty funny actually, even if she is the most mental kid I've ever seen in my life. I imagine it'll be rather amusing once she gets to school.

"But this is yours now," he says, motioning to the cloak. "Just take care of it. It's really unique."

I nod, folding it back up neatly. Dad watches me for a second and then goes to sit down on the edge of his bed. He looks tired, and the tint of sadness that's been evident in his eyes nonstop lately is still there, though he's doing his best to hide it. The vibe in the room changes, though, and I can feel that the conversation's about to turn serious before he even opens his mouth.

"James," he says finally, and my name comes out slowly. He hesitates a second, sighs, and then keeps going. "I know things have been pretty shit lately."

"It's not a big deal," I say quickly, wanting to avoid this conversation if at all possible. I don't particularly enjoy sappy sentimental shit like this. Kate's the extent of my comfortable sappiness, it doesn't really extend much further than her.

Dad, though, doesn't pick up on the hint.

''I'm sorry," he says seriously, "if we've made you feel like it's got anything to do with you." He swallows. "It doesn't."

He's referring to the fact that I stood in his sitting room and basically heard my mother admit to the fact that she was forced into a life that she hated because she accidentally got pregnant with me. It's something that he and I haven't actually talked about. My mum has _tried _to have a couple of conversations and bring it up, but I've either blown her off completely or changed the subject.

"It's fine," I say briskly because seriously I do _not _want to have this conversation.

"No, it's not," he answers back. "Nothing that's happened is your fault, and it's not fair to you for anyone to insinuate otherwise."

When Dad starts using words like insinuate, it's because he's channeling Aunt Hermione. I have a feeling that she may have forced him to face this issue, so he's doing his best to broach the subject like she would. That means using words that sound completely foreign in his mouth like insinuate. I don't have much to say about it, so I just stare back and wait for him to continue.

"And I'm really sorry if we made you feel like that. It doesn't have anything to do with you, and Ginny and I both know that. I think just don't want you to feel like anyone blames you because we don't."

"Would you have got married if Mum wasn't pregnant?" I put the question out there bluntly because it's something I've always wanted to know. I've always been curious as to just how serious my parents were at the time of "the accident."

Dad stares at me for a long time, and I haven't got a clue in hell as to what he's currently thinking about. I almost think he isn't going to answer the question, but then he finally does.

"Yes," he says determinedly. "We would have. Maybe not right then, but eventually, yeah."

"Did you love her?"

"I loved her since I was sixteen years old. She really," he pauses for a second, "changed my life."

"Then why don't you love her now?" I don't even mean to put the edgy tone into it, but I hear it sort of slip out. Dad, if he's offended, says nothing. He just answers me.

"I do love her. But… Things are just different now."

I don't buy that. In fact, I don't even realize that I give a shit until that very second.

"Things don't just become so different that you can't love someone enough to stick it out," I snap rather hastily. "If you love her, then why would you want to leave her?"

"I don't want to _leave _her," Dad says defensively. He seems to realize his own tone because he softens it up again. "But I want her to be happy," he says quietly. "And this is going to make her happier."

I call bullshit. I don't even know why I care. Regardless, I don't bother saying anything more about it. It doesn't matter, though, because Dad isn't finished.

"I just want _you _to know, though, that I know I've made some mistakes. I know that sometimes I didn't listen or pay enough attention to you, and I know sometimes you probably thought I was doing it on purpose. But I really tried to do the right thing. I didn't ever mean for things to get as bad as they sometimes were. And I really am sorry."

I don't know specifically what he's referring to. If I had to guess, I would imagine it has something to do with the fact that he and I have had loads of problems seeing eye to eye over the years. A lot of it, I know, has been my fault because I won't lie and say that I haven't done plenty of things for the sole purpose of getting a reaction. I know I sure as hell haven't been perfect, so I'm definitely not blameless for the fact that Dad and I haven't always had the perfect relationship. But he's not, either. There have been plenty of times when he hasn't even entertained the notion that maybe something wasn't my fault. He's always had a habit of taking Al's or Lily's side in _everything. _And he's been way tougher on me than he ever has with either of them. And we both know it.

But now, I guess, I'm not really willing to hang onto that sort of grudge. I mean, I know it sounds stupid and lame, but I'm an adult now. I really _am _grown up. I don't think I should be harping on shit that happened when I was a kid or a teenager because it's all in the past now, and the past can't be changed. It does mean a lot, though, that Dad recognizes that he hasn't always been the perfect parent, either. I think that says a lot that he's able to admit to it.

"You have a right to be angry or resentful," he goes on. "But I just hope that, you know, maybe this can be a fresh start for the whole family. I want you guys to be happy, just like I want your mum to be happy."

"Did you tell Al and Lily the same thing?"

He glances at the floor and then back up. "I need to talk to Lily," he says dully. "I think she needs some serious help. Al…" he breaks off. "Al and I need to work some things out, too."

He doesn't elaborate, but he doesn't really need to. I already know what he's talking about. Al is wallowing in about a lifetime's worth of guilt and has completely fucked up his entire future. Dad has apparently offered him no sympathy whatsoever. I think he probably needs to be having this discussion with my brother a bit worse than he needs to be having it with me.

"But I just want you to know," he goes on, "that I'm going to really make an effort to start fixing things. I think we can all eventually make things work." He's not talking about himself and Mum, at least not in a romantic married sort of way. It hits me suddenly that they are seriously really over this time. "I want every single person in this family to be happy, and I want you and Kate to be a part of that."

"Kate's amazing," I say, though I have no idea why. It's like an automatic reaction or something. "You'll really love her once you get to know her."

He nods and offers me half a smile, which is more than I've seen in the past several months. "Yeah, she seems like it."

I nod, too, and then awkwardly hold up the cloak that I'm still clutching. "And… thanks," I say seriously.

Dad stands up and claps me on the back. "Just use it wisely," he says spicily. Then he sighs and raises his eyebrows. "Ready to tackle the rest of the kitchen?"

I'm not sure I'll _ever _be ready for that…

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A/N: So, just one more to go! I'm looking forward to the end, but I'm dreading it, too. Oh, well, Rose is up next, and you'll see just about everyone one more time. Thanks for reading!


	61. Rose, June 29th

FINDING THE FUTURE

Chapter 61

**ROSE**

**June 29****th**

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I remember the first time I ever stepped foot inside Hogwarts.

I was barely eleven years old, of course, but I felt more like thirty. I think I probably felt older then than I do now. Of course, it's nothing to do with age- it's more to do with knowledge. At eleven, I thought I knew _everything _and exactly what to expect, as I'd read _Hogwarts, A History _cover to cover approximately six times already. I knew all about the castle and its history and had a fair bit of knowledge about the secrets that lay within the school. So when I got there, I wasn't actually too nervous about anything.

I wasn't nervous about the Sorting, as kids often are. I remember Al being positively mental the whole way there because James had convinced him that he was going to be Sorted into Slytherin. It was stupid, of course, because James knew perfectly well that Al was not going to end up in Slytherin and was simply being a bastard- something he perfected pretty much from the day he learned how to move his fucking mouth and make sounds. I told Al this over and over and over, but he kept freaking out about it to the point where I was ready to punch him in the face by the time we finally arrived at the school (I didn't, by the way, because even at eleven, I had enough foresight to determine that punching a Potter in the nose was probably a good way to get expelled on the first day of school).

I already knew I'd be a Gryffindor, even if I secretly thought I'd probably like Ravenclaw more. Every single one of my cousins (besides Lucy, but she totally doesn't count) had already been Sorted into Gryffindor, and that's where Weasleys are _supposed _to go. And give me a break, like Harry Potter's son was going to go anywhere else? Al was just an idiot, and his brother was just a prick. Nine years later, and funny how not much has changed, huh?

I haven't been back here since my own graduation ceremony, but seeing as that's just been two years ago, not a whole lot has changed. The Great Hall looks nearly identical to the way it did that night, and all the tables are pushed aside for simple bench seating. It's beautiful, of course, and the ceiling matches the perfectly clear night sky outside.

"God, it's crowded." Scorpius's voice is right behind my ear as we're squeezed through the entryway into the Great Hall. "We're never going to find your mum."

I think he's probably right as I glance around at the crowds of people who are already filling the benches. We're not late, but we're not extremely early, either. This is, of course, due to the fact that I went straight to his house approximately five minutes after I got home. And since we haven't seen each other in several weeks, it was a bit distracting… And then, you know, the whole can't Apparate into Hogwarts thing, so we had to go first to Hogsmeade and then get caught in all that crowd… Needless to say, we could have been earlier.

But we're here now, and there aren't too many open spots as it is, so forget trying to actually _spot _someone. Or anyone _else _anyway. One of the perks of being Minister of Magic is that you often get really great, really convenient seats at big events such as this one, so I actually find my mum fairly quickly. She's down toward the front left corner, and the whole set of guards put on duty to accompany her have made sure that there's plenty of space around her. I grab Scorpius's hand and start shoving my way through the crowds of people that are blocking me. They move, and a few of them mutter under their breaths about rudeness, though no one really pays much attention.

Mum's got Landon in her lap, and he looks awfully pouty about something. This means one of three things- 1) he's not feeling well; 2) he's in trouble; or 3) he wants something and is trying to act pitiful. I don't even bother asking. Uncle Harry'sthere. And Aunt Ginny. They're sitting beside each other, though both are talking to people in opposite directions. Between those two and my mum, there are several people standing up and trying to snap pictures, though the Aurors do a good job of telling them to back the fuck off. My grandparents are all here (besides Mum's dad, of course), and they're chattering away brightly. And Al's already here, too. He waves when Scorpius and I show up, and I try to force a little smile because Mum told me to be nicer to him. Scorpius apparently didn't get the memo, though, because he pointedly looks away, though a lot of this, I'm sure, is due to awkwardness. He's still not used to getting thrown into the middle of my family chaos.

Landon, for one, seems to brighten immediately at his appearance, though, and he sits up from his previous position of lying back dead weight against Mum's chest. He slides off her lap and goes straight over to where Scorpius sits down. Landon climbs onto his knees on the bench beside him and immediately starts jabbering away excitedly. Scorpius doesn't let on if he's annoyed, which makes me love him a little bit more than I already do. I ignore them, though, and go over to Mum instead who smiles up at me tiredly.

"I was beginning to worry."

"Hogsmeade is insane," I lie expertly. Okay, so it's not _technically _a lie, since Hogsmeade _was _rather crowded. I just leave out the part of the story where my boyfriend and I did it twice in his bedroom and once in the bathroom in the few hours preceding graduation. I doubt she'd like to hear that, and Scorpius would kill me dead if I ever said it loud anyway.

But yeah, it was fun.

"Did you see Hugo yet?" I ask, sliding onto the bench beside her after I kiss all of my grandparents hello.

"We haven't seen anyone yet," Mum says, stretching her neck a bit in an effort to see if she can spot any movement from the platform hangings. There's nothing happening.

"Rose, you look so pretty!" Aunt Ginny leans around Mum to place a hand on my arm. She smiles brightly at me. "I love that dress."

"Thanks," I mutter awkwardly, trying to elicit something closer to a smile than a grimace. It works until she turns back around and I happen to catch Al's eye. The look on his face is priceless, and I have to duck my head to hide the sudden smirk.

It doesn't matter, though, because the sudden commotion behind us draws everyone's attention. I have to suppress the urge to roll my eyes as I see what's causing it. James is shoving his way through the crowd and having an even more difficult time than I did. This is due, of course, to the fact that there are no less than thirty people following him. He's got sunglasses on inside the castle. _At night. _And I take them as his lame attempt at a disguise.

It doesn't work.

"What the _fuck!" _he mutters in exasperation as he finally makes it through the crowd and falls onto the bench beside Al. Both of my grandmothers narrow their faces in opposition to his choice of wording, but no one else seems fazed. James doesn't pay either of them any attention as he grabs the glasses off his face and looks around, thoroughly annoyed. It's a good thing my mum's guards are around because otherwise, I'm fairly certain he'd be ripped to shreds right now. A million more flashes go off as people get to their feet to try and snap his picture.

You know it's a sad day when James Potter is more famous than his father. But that's the world we live in, isn't it?

The crowd calms down a bit when the commencement music begins to play, and soon all the Seventh Years have made their way onto the platform. The next hour passes so slowly that I think I might fall asleep. Landon _does _fall asleep. And people all over the Great Hall begin to show visible signs of restlessness and annoyance as several professors and the Headmaster take turns speaking and sharing thoughts with the graduates and the audience.

Finally, they get to the part where they recognize all the Seventh Years and let them shake hands with the Headmaster and feel completely elated with the fact that (most of them) will never have to spend another day in school. Unless, of course, they're stupid like me and decide to sign up for three more years of _hell. _(Not that I'm bitter).

There are twenty-seven Seventh Years, and my brother is the very, very last one. Lily's about halfway through, and she actually looks a lot happier than I expected her to be as she crosses the platform. She is the type of girl who _lives _for school. She's never again going to be as powerful as she is right now, and she knows it. She's never going to be as popular or as adored or as catered to. But she doesn't seem at all upset to be leaving it behind. In fact, when she gets to the other side of the stage, the first person she hugs is not one of the many worshippers or minions who have already crossed- it's Amanda Longbottom, who looks both surprised and confused.

Wow. Things sure have changed…

Twelve-hundred hours later, they finally call Hugo, and Landon wakes up just in time to pretend to be excited. Hugo looks predictably uncomfortable but also a bit pleased. He gets lots of applause, but I imagine it must suck to be the very last person called. I was lucky to have Zachary Zimmerman in my class, so I didn't have to suffer the last-called awkwardness. Lily hugs Hugo, too, and he hugs her back. I guess that's nice, though I wish he'd held out on forgiving her a bit longer. I really, really don't like her, but I suppose she _is _my cousin and he _is _my brother, so I shouldn't really enjoy them hating each other. But it's still kind of fun…

Afterwards, the Great Hall turns into a giant sea of confusion as people everywhere seek out their graduates to congratulate them and shower them with attention. It's lucky for Hugo and Lily that we're easy to spot because they make it over to us in a lot less time than a lot of their friends probably find their own families. They both look really happy and excited, and everyone hugs them and congratulates them and tells them that they're so proud. Lily's so excited that she even forgets that she hates me for a moment as she hugs me and starts talking away a million miles a minute about her NEWTs. She seems extremely hyper, and if I were a bitch, I would say it's probably because she's got something in her system to make her that way.

But I'm not being a bitch today, so I'll just pretend it's natural endorphins.

"Hugo, Hugo, I can't believe you're all grown up!" I say with fake nostalgia as I finally get hold of Hugo. I hug him tightly and squeeze both arms around in him both an attempt to embarrass him and also a halfway serious show of affection. He pretends to hate it, of course, and struggles to free himself. "You should still be in nappies," I think, I say, shaking my head sarcastically as I pinch his cheek a little. He glares at me, and I can't help but laugh because we both know that once they have their official graduation party at the Burrow that he'll be getting that from all The Aunts within a fifty mile radius.

"Well, if I ever need them again, I'm sure I can just borrow yours," he shoots back smartly as he ducks away from my cheek-pinching.

It's funny, I don't know when Hugo stopped being annoying. I suppose it must have happened somewhere when I wasn't paying attention because the last thing I remember, he was just an annoying little prat with a big mouth. But somewhere along the line, he actually became sort of okay.

He shoves me a little bit teasingly and then goes back over to talk to Mum again. She looks crazy proud of him, and he doesn't struggle when _she _hugs him. He doesn't even seem the least bit embarrassed actually and even lets her fuss with his hair for a bit. I wonder if it makes him sad that Dad isn't here. I mean, obviously I'm sure he's _sad. _It's sad every day to realize that Dad's really gone, but I think it must be even worse to notice it on a day like this. I mean, after all, Hugo's worked on this day his whole life pretty much, and Dad doesn't even get to see him finish it. It's shit.

Maybe _that's _when Hugo stopped being annoying. Maybe it happened when I realized that he's the only other person I know who can really relate to what it feels like right now. He's the only other person who really understands what it feels like waking up every morning for that half-second when you think it was all just a really bad dream and that your dad didn't really get killed. Even Landon doesn't understand the way Hugo does because Landon's so young. It's hard on him for sure, but he doesn't feel it the same way Hugo and I do. So maybe that's why I can look at my brother now and actually see a really fantastic man and not just some bratty kid.

My momentary lapse into sentimentality causes me to completely miss the warning of the sudden commotion that hits us all at once. Apparently the guards no longer feel the need to watch _all _of us because James finally does get mobbed. By about ten eighteen year old girls fresh and high off their own graduation endorphins.

He doesn't stand a chance of defending himself, so he just gives into it and halfway humors them by actually speaking and even congratulating them. It's disgusting the way they throw themselves at him and giggle stupidly. It's even more ridiculous considering the fact that all of these girls were at school with him and knew him _before _he even played pro-Quidditch. Of course, they were a few years younger, but it's not like it's the first time they've ever _seen_ him.

It gets even more disgusting when one of the girls stands up on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear and then lets a finger slide in gross seductiveness down his chest. James has the decency to look uncomfortable, but it really angers me for some reason.

"Excuse me," I say, not able to hold my tongue. "He's _married. _Did you know that?"

"So?" she asks, and then she and the other girls all erupt into irritating giggles. They apparently think it's extremely amusing, though I can't imagine what's so damn funny. I look pointedly at James who also at least has the decency to look a bit embarrassed.

You'd think that being married would have dropped James's stock a bit with the female population, but if anything, it's only made him more desirable. Apparently he's now like some sort of forbidden fruit or something. It's sickening. James, at least, no longer seems to be so into the idea of being a sex symbol, though I don't know how much of that is honest and how much of it is just guilt based off the fact that he knows he shouldn't enjoy it.

Now don't get me wrong. He really does actually love Kate. I don't know how that ever happened and how he magically acquired a soul. He's pretty much been a complete prick since the day he was born, so it's a little strange to see him suddenly _in love _and halfway decent and normal. But I guess it's nice, too, because Kate's awesome, and she definitely doesn't deserve the bastard that she probably (unwillingly) fell in love with. This James 2.0 is much more deserving of her, so hopefully he can manage to keep this up.

He does a good job of separating himself and smoothly goes over to talk to my grandparents. It works because even slags won't follow someone to talk to their grandmum. Of course, the little whores don't disappear immediately, and I watch in literal shock as they realize that James Potter is not the _only _professional Quidditch player in the vicinity.

"Oh, my god, Scorpius Malfoy!" screeches one little bitch who I think is called Natalie.

She and the rest of her mates pounce on Scorpius before even sees it coming. They all start chatting away instantly, and he looks infinitely more uncomfortable than James did- even when he was being embarrassed. They're going on and on about what a fantastic season he had and making up some bullshit stats that they've probably got no idea about. He glances around nervously, and he catches my eye and looks properly ashamed, though it's clear that he hasn't got a clue how to extract himself from the crowd of hyper girls.

I'm jealous. I'm jealous, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It drives me absolutely mental to watch other girls even _talk _to him, and it also makes me really, really angry. I have quite a temper when pushed, and a definite way to heat it up is to flirt with _my _boyfriend in front of me. Those girls have about ten seconds before I hex every single one of them right here in front of God and Grandmum and the whole Great Hall.

"Hey, will you sign my tits?"

Sorry, _what? _The same little girl who first screeched his name actually starts pulling open her robes, and I react without even thinking twice.

"Oh, _hell _no," I snap, stepping right in between her and Scorpius who backs away nervously like he's afraid I'm about to curse his balls off or something. Obviously I'm not going to do that because I _do _want some pretty little blonde babies one day, but I can't promise any other sort of self-control so it's probably best that he backs off while he can. "You need to get the fuck out of here," I snarl at the girl (is her name Natalie? I can't remember… Whatever, doesn't matter). "I'm about to lose my patience."

She rolls her eyes at me, but I think she's smart enough not to fuck with me. I may not remember her name, but I'm sure she remembers me. And if she has any recollection at all, she'll know that I'm not exactly someone you want on your bad side.

"Lily, you need to come handle this," I snap, grabbing her elbow and pulling her over to the group of girls who I assume have at least one point or another been her friends. "Before I hex everyone of their fucking noses off." I keep my voice low because I don't particularly want my mother to hear me making violent threats in public.

Lily looks at the other girls, and half of them actually sneer back at her. She waits for a second and then looks back at me with a bored sort of look on her face. "Go ahead."

There's a few seconds of shocked silence before Scorpius swoops in and saves the day. Or at least saves me from getting arrested by my mum's own bodyguards.

"Want to get out of here?" he asks, grabbing _my _elbow the same way I just grabbed Lily's. "We can meet back up with everyone later," he says, answering the question before it's asked. He knows that I've only got a couple of days before I have to go back to the academy and that I have a responsibility to spend some of that time with my family. But he also knows that I _really _want to disappear with him and forget anyone else even exists.

He doesn't have to ask me twice. I just take a couple of minutes to tell everyone bye and promise Mum that we'll be home later. And then Scorpius and I head back through the now thinning crowd toward Hogsmeade.

The village is a little busy, what with the graduation and the usual Saturday night rush, but when Scorpius decides we should go for a drink in the Three Broomsticks, we don't really have much trouble finding a table. In fact, we're able to get a little booth in the corner, which is perfectly secluded enough to make me forget about everyone and everything else. We order some drinks, and then Scorpius starts in on his defense.

"I have no interest in their tits," he says firmly, opening with what I'm sure he thinks is the most pressing matter. I almost laugh at the look on his face, but I try to be mad for at least a couple of minutes longer. "I _am _quite interested in yours, though."

I fail at not being amused.

Scorpius cuts my snicker off, though, with a slow little kiss that begins with his hand in my hair and ends with it resting unceremoniously on the chest in question. He pulls back just slightly and looks at me. I raise my eyebrows at him and let him know in no uncertain terms that he is _not _going to grope me in the middle of a pub. No matter how badly I _want _him to grope me in the middle of a pub. He sits back and puts his hand back in his lap begrudgingly.

"Sorry," he mutters, and he doesn't sound sorry at all. "But it's been a long fucking time."

He's right, of course. It _has _been a long fucking time. That's probably why we found it necessary to grab three quick ones before we left his house. There's probably at least two more for tonight, or that's what I would bet if I thought gambling was in any way whatsoever morally correct.

"Just one more year," I remind him. One more year. Wow. That may as well be a decade. Still, though, I _try _to be optimistic. "Can you believe it's already been two years since _we _graduated?" I ask, thinking of how insane that sounds just saying it out loud.

It definitely doesn't feel like it's been two whole years since we were in Hogwarts. Time seems like it's moving so _slowly _when all I do all day is sit around and miss Scorpius, which, trust me, I've been doing for the better part of these two years. But looking back, it really seems as if it's all just flown by. It's crazy really. It seems like it was just last week that we were sneaking behind the curtains of the Great Hall after the graduation ceremony and finalizing plans to spend all summer together (secretly, of course, as neither of our parents took too kindly to the idea of us at that time). Now we don't sneak anywhere at all, and it's kind of sad in a way. But it's also kind of awesome.

"I was just thinking about that back at the school," Scorpius agrees, taking a long drink from the glass that's just appeared in front of him. "It's weird, huh?"

I nod, sipping my own drink, taking it much more slowly than he is. "Where did you think we'd be in two years back then?"

He seems to honestly think this question over, and I wait and try to hide my humor at his expense. He looks so serious that I honestly expect a really thought-out type of sentimental type of answer. So I'm a little bit surprised when he says, "Well. I definitely thought I would have been chucked off the team by now for being rubbish. And I thought you'd probably be in Azkaban for killing Laura Ellis by now."

I should probably be offended, but I immediately laugh anyway. Laura Ellis has been the bane of my existence since I was about eleven years old, and she's been nothing but worse since we both entered the Healer's Academy together. But I've learned to ignore her, and if ignoring her is not an option, I'm quite capable of outwitting her.

"Seriously," he says honestly when we both stop laughing, "I didn't know." He looks at me for a couple of seconds and then pushes some hair out of my face. "But I'm glad we're here."

It's the best answer I could have hoped for, and I'm sure the gigantic smile that crawls across my face is indication enough of this fact. This has been the craziest time of my life, but I've managed to stay sane because Scorpius has a good habit of keeping me that way. I think right here is a great place to be.

Two years have passed since school.

One more year of the Healer's Academy.

And then we've got the rest of forever for a future.

I think that sounds pretty okay.

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A/N: Annnnnnd….. THE END. (sniff) This is bittersweet because I love these guys, and I love writing them! I think we may see them again (whether in a future story or one-shots, I'm not sure), but for now, we're going to head back to the people who raised them. The new story will be out soon, so keep an eye out for it and give it a shot.

Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck this out with me, especially to the people who have left such nice and helpful reviews. You guys are awesome, and I can't tell you how much it means. I hope you enjoyed the ride!


	62. Epilogue

FINDING THE FUTURE

Epilogue

**LANDON**

**September 1****st**

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The last time I was on Platform 9 ¾, I was six years old.

That's how old I was when Hugo went off to his Seventh and last year of Hogwarts. It was ages ago, really, so it's not surprising that I get a little bit nervous heading toward the barrier. I know it works, of course, but it still doesn't make running full speed at a brick wall any easier, does it? I squeeze my eyes shut at the last second, and when I open them, I no longer see the mundane bustle of a thousand mundane London men and women on their morning commutes. The scene is much less mundane, and the thousand or so men and women have changed to hundreds of excited children and teenagers and their parents preparing for the start of a new school year.

That's something interesting about the first day of school. Even those people who hate school always seem excited on the first day because they momentarily forget that they're actually heading back to classes and professors and homework. All they notice at the moment are friends that they haven't seen all summer. It was the same way at my old school, too. All the kids were happy on the first day of class (except for the odd one or two who would cry each year when their parents dropped them off), but by the second or third day, seventy percent of the class was already complaining about the work. Personally, though, I've never had a problem with school- not when my parents taught me at home and not in the past four years that I've spent in Muggle primary. It's a bit boring from time to time, especially considering that I always tend to know more than my classmates, which causes me a tendency to be bored and, sometimes, inattentive. But still. School isn't that bad. Learning new things has always been something I'm interested in.

Mum comes through the barrier behind me, and she already looks exhausted. That's strange because normally she doesn't look that way until much later in the afternoon. I suppose it must be stressful for her, though, checking and double-checking to make sure that I've got everything I need. It doesn't matter, of course, that I packed my new trunk last week and had about six different lists to make sure I had everything. She just worries, I suppose. Or maybe my brother and sister always caused her stress on September 1st by not being fully-prepared. That's probably a more likely answer, as I imagine Hugo probably didn't _care _and Rose probably left things out on purpose just to watch Mum go red.

"Are you okay?" she asks, glancing down at me as if I'm still a small child wracked with nerves about the first day of school.

"I'm fine," I tell her, making a conscious effort to keep my voice from sounding too snappy. I try my best to not get annoyed with Mum's worrying because I know she's just really trying and that she has an awful lot on her plate at any given moment. So I always try to just pretend I don't notice because I don't want to make her feel bad.

I know, too, that this is the first time probably ever that she's been here without my dad.

I don't remember a lot about my dad. He died when I was seven. I know that's only been a few years ago, but it's been long enough for me to forget a lot of things. I remember him, of course, but it's hard for me to remember a lot of details. I don't ever say that out loud, though, because I know it would make people upset. It's weird, though, because Rose and Hugo know everything about him, and they can talk about him as if they just saw him yesterday. For me, though, sometimes it almost seems as if never even existed, like it was all just a story or a dream. But then I remind myself that I _can _remember some things, so I stop thinking like that. It bothers me sometimes that I find it so difficult to actually _miss _my father, especially as I remember missing him a lot in the months after he died. But it just seems normal now for it just be Mum and me. It seems strange that I ever even _had _a father, so it's difficult for me to miss that. But Mum misses him, and my brother and sister do. Lots of people miss him. So sometimes I pretend to miss him, too, just to keep from admitting that I can barely remember him.

My mum's the Minister of Magic. She has been since I was three years old, so I honestly have _no _recollection what it's like for her to be anything else. I guess that's why it doesn't even faze me when people start looking over and staring. Even the pointing and the whispering seems normal, so I just block it out easily. Dora said she would feel weird if people always stared at her mother that way, but I don't really think it's weird. I barely even notice. Besides, Dora is an idiot. It still sucks, though, that she can't come to Hogwarts yet because that means I really know _no one. _None of my friends from school are going to be there, obviously, and all my cousins have already left.

Almost as if Mum can read my mind, she reminds me of someone who _will _be there. "Remember, tell Ginny if you need anything. She'll take care of it, okay?"

Aunt Ginny's going to be there. She started working there last year as the flying instructor, and apparently she absolutely loves it. I think it's probably weird to have your aunt as one of your teachers, but I guess out of all The Aunts, she's the least embarrassing one. A lot of people think she's really cool actually- I guess because she used to be a professional Quidditch player and used to be married to Harry Potter and all that. I don't particularly find any of that overly interesting, but I guess that's because I've seen Harry Potter at least once every single day of my life and because I know loads of professional Quidditch players. My cousin and my brother-in-law are both Quidditch stars, so I know tons of their teammates and have been sitting in on training sessions since I was just a kid.

Coincidentally, I don't particularly feel as though I _need _flying lessons, but apparently they're compulsory for all First Years. I asked Aunt Ginny if she thinks I've got a chance of getting a spot on the House team (because I'm actually quite good), but she said it just depends on where I get Sorted because some of the Houses already have closed teams. This is crap, of course, because she and everyone else in the world knows I'm going to be in Gryffindor. Every single member of my family, including both my parents, were Gryffindors, so it's about as likely that I'll get kicked by a Hippogriff as it is that I'll be Sorted elsewhere.

I see Mum waving at someone, and I look up to see my sister and my cousin making their way across the platform to us. Actually, Kate's not technically my cousin, I suppose, she's actually my cousin's _wife, _but they've been married forever, so it's just easier to call her that. She and Rose are best friends, though, and it's actually really rare to see them away from each other. The only time it seems like they're not together if is they're working, which is strange really because seeing as how it's a Wednesday morning, they should both actually _be _at work. Apparently they took the day off to be here. I don't miss the bags that are hooked onto the handle of the pram, though, so I know that being here to see me off is just an excuse for a day off for shopping.

Rose loves me, though, I know that, a lot more than she loves most people actually, so I was already expecting her to show up. I'm not surprised that Kate's with her, either, as I already said they have a tendency to go places in a pair. Mum's happy to see them, though, or at least she's happy to see the baby. The second they get over to us, she immediately bends over the pram and lifts the baby out. Joshua's just barely three months old, but Kate already looks skinnier than she did even before she got pregnant. I don't know how all of that works, but I listened to her complain for months that she was going to be fat forever, so I guess she's happy that it didn't turn out like that.

Mum's mental over that baby, though, and all she ever wants to do whenever he's within arm's reach is hold him and bounce him and feed him and change his nappy and a whole bunch of other stuff that doesn't sound particularly enjoyable to me. I think she really, really wants Rose to have one, but Rose, at least so far, doesn't seem too interested. That's not to say that she doesn't have her own moments of mushy gushy mentality sometimes whenever Joshua does something that's apparently particularly "cute." And she did have a habit of oohing and ahhing over Kate the whole time she was pregnant and telling her how adorable she looked. But she hasn't mentioned that she actually _wants _a baby of her. At least not yet.

"Are you excited?" Rose lets Mum and Kate coddle the baby and turns her attention to me.

"Sort of," I admit. "I don't really know anyone, though."

"It'll be fine," she says, shaking her head. "You'll meet people on the train, and then you'll start making friends in no time."

"Do you think they'll treat me weird?" I ask this because of Mum. Rose knows what I'm referring to, though, and sort of shrugs a shoulder.

"Yeah, probably," she says honestly. "But it's not so bad. Some people will be jealous, but you just have to ignore them. Most people will think it's really cool, though."

"Is Hugo coming?" I ask, glancing around. I don't really expect him to, but since Rose and Kate really did show up, maybe he will, too. Rose, though, shakes her head.

"He couldn't get off work."

That's not surprising. Hugo has to work a lot of random hours, and sometimes it's difficult to actually ever even see him. He's an Auror, but he doesn't work at the Ministry all the time like most of them do. I guess because he's still fairly new, they ship him off to random raids on the borders and the bordering countries and make him work hours that the more senior Aurors don't want to work- like the middle of the night and early in the morning. Sometimes, like today, he actually works during halfway normal hours, but it's next to impossible for him to get off work.

Rose helps me drag my trunk across the platform and get it loaded onto the train. Mum's well out of hearing distance now, so I guess Rose takes that as her cue to tell me what she thinks I really need to hear.

"Okay, look," she says quickly, glancing over to Mum and Kate to make sure they're occupied. "Sometimes Hogwarts is going to suck because there really _are _people who are jealous of you and will treat you like shit because of it. But the majority of the people there really will think it's cool, and most everyone will want to be your friend. That's fine, but just make sure that the people you choose as your friends are actually people who like you for _you _and not because of Mum or Uncle Harry or James or Scorpius or anything else, okay?" I nod, suddenly envisioning a bunch of ill-willed friendships. I wonder if Rose thinks she's making me feel better.

"And _don't _hang over Aunt Ginny or Neville too much because people will make fun of you. You're already going to have a shit enough time trying to dodge the supposed favoritism a load of other people are sure you're getting. Oh, and try not to show off. I mean, I know it's going to be hard because you'll already know loads more than most of the idiots in your class, but just try not to show it _too _much because people love being mean to other people who are smarter than them. But trust me, it's going to be hard sitting there and trying to appear on their level because you're probably going to be the smartest kid in your class. Just try not to overdo it, okay? Because it's not fun when people start getting mean." She's speaking from experience obviously, and I wonder if she knows how quickly she's speaking right now.

"Oh, and Montague's going to hate you. He's the Potions professor, and he hates all of us. Just ignore him because he's a bastard who doesn't even know half of what he's supposed to be teaching." She pauses for a second and tries to think of some more hallowed advice. "Oh, yeah, try to avoid Peeves because he's another one who's going to love to torture you. Oh, and if you need anything or get into trouble or anything, let _me _know first, and I'll try to fix it. Mum's already going mental worrying, so it's probably best if you try and keep that to a minimum."

She finally breathes, and I stare at her wordlessly for a few seconds, trying to take in everything she's just spewed at me in the matter of a minute.

"But everything's going to be okay, right?" I finally ask.

Rose smiles. "Yeah, everything's going to be fine! You're going to _love _it!"

Sometimes she really, _really _confuses me.

The whistle blows, and I look up to see everyone saying their last-minute goodbyes and heading toward the train. "You better hurry," Rose tells me, shooing me back over to Mum.

Mum passes the baby back to Kate when I get there, and she immediately drops down to hug me. She squeezes a little bit too tightly, but I don't say anything. I just let her hug me and try to smooth down my hair, which is a mess, of course, and never lies flat.

"Be good, okay?" she tells me in my ear. "And write me and let me know how things are."

"I will," I promise on both counts.

"Have fun, and remember, just let Aunt Ginny know if you need anything, okay?" I nod again, and Mum gives me one more squeeze before kissing my cheek and standing back up.

Kate balances Joshua in one arm and holds the other out to give me a hug. I hug her and then ran a hand quickly over the baby's hat. He smiles at me. Rose hugs me, too, nearly as tightly as Mum did. She looks really sad actually, and for a second, I think she might even cry. She doesn't, though, just forces a quickly smile and straightens back up. I start to head to the train, but Mum grabs me once more and hugs me tight. "I love you," she says seriously.

I feel a little bit embarrassed but not enough to hurt her feelings. "Love you, too," I mumble back, and then she finally lets me go and nudges me toward the train.

I feel a lot of things as I board the train and turn around to give one last wave to my family. I'm nervous and excited and also sort of scared. I feel kind of bad for Mum, but I know there's nothing I can do about it. No one really pays much attention to me as they all shove each other and squeeze round each other to find compartments. I glance through the glasses as I make my way through the carriage, and most of the compartments are already occupied by groups of people. Most everyone seems bigger than me, which could be why no one pays me any notice. I want to find an empty compartment, but there don't seem to be any. Finally, I find one that's only got one other person in it, a brown-haired boy who looks like he's probably about my age. For sure he doesn't have any friends, though, because he looks sad and lonely. It's the best I've got, though, so I just slide the glass open and peek in, feeling nervous all over again.

"Can I sit here?" I ask, and he looks up at me, so I offer another explanation. "Everywhere else is full."

The brown-haired boy says nothing for a second, and then he nods and looks back out the window. I hesitate and then finally move inside, pulling the glass back behind me. I don't know whether to say anything to him or not, as he sort of looks like he doesn't want to be bothered. Still, it's a long way to Scotland, and I can just imagine how boring that's going to be if I'm stuck in a compartment with a kid who doesn't speak.

"I'm Landon," I say, careful not to add my surname. For some reason, I don't really feel ready for people to know.

"I'm Mark," he says quietly, and his voice sounds timid and scared. Still, though, he manages a week smile before turning his head back to the window. I see him wave at two people who I suppose must be his parents, and then I look around trying to spot my own mum. I find her, and she sees me. She smiles and doesn't look quite as sad anymore. I wave to her, and she waves back.

Maybe this won't be so bad.

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A/N: Soooo…. That was short, and I'm sure it was probably about as interesting as epilogue in Deathly Hallows (ie, not very interesting at all!). But I wanted to at least give a _little _sneak peek into the future of some of the characters. I know they're not all here, and all of them aren't even mentioned, but I'm sure we'll see them all again in due time. Plus, Landon's never got his shot before, so I wanted to give him a chance!


	63. Prequel

The prequel's up!

It won't let me post a link in here (or I can't figure it out...) but the story is called Back to the Beginning, and the id is 5285176.

I hope you guys enjoy it. I'm looking forward to getting back to the originals, but I definitely still plan on visiting the next gen from time to time as well.


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